


Lights, Camera, Action

by AustinB



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actor Bucky, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst, Avengers AU, Bottom Bucky, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hollywood, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Publicity, Red Carpet, Switching, actor!bucky, bucky is a movie star, chapter 9 has EXPLICIT CONTENT, everything else is teen for language, no powers, steve is a costume designer, steve is a sweet gay virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustinB/pseuds/AustinB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets a job as costume designer under Nick Fury for Shield Studios, where he meets movie star Bucky Barnes, and it all unravels from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on Tumblr: stuckylikeglue dot tumblr dot com

Steve was _going_ to go in to the building. Honestly, he _was_. He was just working himself up to it. Catching his breath. Gathering his thoughts. Admiring the architecture.

He stood in front of Shield studios lot, the guard at the gate eyeing him warily, with his portfolio clutched in white-knuckled fingers.

“I knew it,” Sam said from behind him.

Steve was too preoccupied to be startled at Sam sneaking up on him, but not enough to not be annoyed.

“I’m _going_ to go in,” he said, scowling at his friend and roommate.

“So why aren’t you in already?”

“I’m catching my breath,” Steve said defensively. “Gathering my thoughts—“

“Admiring the architecture?” Sam finished. Steve scowled deeper. “Imma drag your useless ass inside if you don’t start moving right now.”

Steve could just picture it, so he finally moved up to the guard’s booth.

“I’m here to see Mr. Fury,” he said.

“Steve Rogers?”

Steve nodded, and tried to listen to the guard’s directions on how to reach the costume department, but the gate was opening, and he was out of excuses.

Steve was generally a pretty confident person. Once he’d turned 17 and shot up and out like a bad weed with a six pack, he hadn’t had much reason not to be. Sure, he still harbored some of the social anxiety that went with being a scrawny, sickly kid in high school, but mostly he’d gotten past all that.

The thing was, he _really really really_ wanted this job. Like, really. Designing costumes for Shield studios under Nick Fury would be a dream come true. The man had won two Oscars for costume design and was a Hollywood legend. If it turned out working on films wasn’t Steve’s thing, he could go back to theater after a year or so, but so many more doors would be open to him after the experience. No show on Broadway would be too big.

The pressure that knowledge put on this interview was immense.

Steve stopped, realizing he’d been walking while deep in thought and now had no idea where he was. The corridor was abandoned. There was a door up to the right, but it was locked. He heard voices coming toward him and spun a tight, panic-induced 360, but there was nowhere to go. So he leaned his back against the wall and tried to look casual.

“OK, see ya, Bruce,” one voice said, and one set of footsteps continued toward him and rounded the corner.

“Hey,” a man said, then stopped. “You don’t look so good, you need a bucket or something?”

“Huh, what? No, I’m fine,” Steve said hurriedly. Obviously he hadn’t done as good of a job at looking casual as he’d hoped. He must’ve looked rather sick. That would go over real well in an interview, along with being late.

Steve’s brain finally caught up with his eyes and he realized he was staring at _James goddamn Barnes_ , who was looking at him with concern.

“You sure? Can I help you find something?” His brown hair fell just below his ears, and he had the top half pulled back. He was wearing jeans low on his hips with grey converse shoes and a long-sleeved button down shirt in blue and green plaid. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbow, and there was black and red ink peeking out from under the sleeve on his left arm. It was very distracting.

“I, uh,” Steve stammered, when one corner of James’s mouth turned up. God, he was making a fool of himself. _Pull it together, Rogers._ “I have an interview with Mr. Fury?” It came out as a question, and Steve wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Oh, Saint Nick?” James said with a smile. “Don’t be so nervous, the guy’s a puppy dog. He sounds terrifying, and he’s a hard ass at first, but say something about chiffon and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

Steve let out a breath and offered a small grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“And you’re like, in the complete opposite direction of wardrobe,” James said apologetically, with a smile.

Steve had to laugh at that. “I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention to the directions at the gate.”

“No problem, I’ll take you,” James said, starting off back the way Steve had come. Steve fell in step next to him and tried not to trip over himself. He wondered what James was doing for Shield studios. They always had a million and two projects going. He was sure he wouldn't have the good (bad?) luck to be working on the same project as him.

He’d seen James in a few indie movies over the past few years, and Hollywood was just starting to pick up on his talent. Steve was comfortable enough with himself to admit he’d harbored a little bit of crush on him since seeing him on screen the first time. In fact, that was when he first began to understand and accept his bisexuality.

And now Steve was walking _next_ to him. _Talking_ to him.

Well, listening to him.

Well, sort of.

“Sorry?” Steve prompted, when James was looking at him with raised eyebrows, as if he’d just asked him a question.

James smiled apologetically again, like he knew Steve was a little star struck. “I asked how long you’d been in costume design?”

“Oh, I’ve been working at little theaters here and there for about five years now. I went to school for fine art, but took an internship doing costumes for Othello, and fell in love.”

James looked genuinely interested, and Steve felt the blush that had been present for the past ten minutes intensify. James started to ask him more about it, but they were crossing the open air lot and someone called out to "Bucky" from an open warehouse door.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” James apologized. “Just go through that red door and it’s the last door on the left,” he said, pointing across the lot. He held out his hand and Steve shook it, thanks solely to his ingrained courtesy and muscle memory.

“Good luck, man, I hope you get the job,” he said sincerely and made to turn away, but turned back again. “Oh, I’m Bucky by the way!” He said as he walked backward a few steps.

 _Bucky?_ James _goddamn_ Barnes wanted him to use his nickname? Steve felt vaguely as if he were going to float away at any moment.

Steve only just managed  _not_ to say “I know.”

Bucky gave a cute little wave, and Steve decided to make an eye appointment, because it _looked_ to him like Bucky’s gaze traveled from his face to his shoes and back up again. It _looked_ like he was smiling coyly.

“Steve.” Steve said, super smooth. “Rogers.”

And then Bucky turned and jogged toward the open warehouse door, and the crew member with a goatee and a headset who’d called to him.

Steve glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath. It was 9:59. He dashed in the direction Bucky’d pointed, and found the door marked “Wardrobe.”

Steve rapped on the door frame and poked his head inside the open door. There were racks of clothes to the right, a vanity framed with old-style exposed lightbulbs directly ahead and a couch and coffee table to the left, littered with fabric scraps, magazines, swatch books and sketch pads.

A man appeared from between a red and blue spangly gown amongst the racks of clothes. The contrast was so sharp it nearly made Steve cross eyed. Fury wore dark jeans, a grey cable-knit sweater, black beret and a legit _eye patch_.

He was either scowling hard at Steve or was afflicted with a resting bitch face. Either way, it took Steve a couple tries to form words.

“I’m—I’m Steve Rogers. I’m here for-“

“I know what you’re here for, son. Come in, quit lurking in the doorway. It’s rude." 

Fury leaned back against the vanity and gestured for Steve to sit on the couch. Not an inch of it wasn’t covered in debris, so Steve carefully swiped his arm across the cushion and sat quickly on the edge, holding his portfolio in his lap.

“You don’t look like you’d be any good at this job,” Fury said, holding his hand out expectantly.

Steve jerked and thrust his portfolio out.

“I, uh,” Steve unfortunately reverted to total honesty when he didn’t know what to say. “I resent that,” he said finally, and Fury stopped flipping through his portfolio and glanced up at him. “I spent the better half of my life looking like a stiff breeze would knock me over, and everyone underestimated me then too. And to be completely honest, Mr. Fury, you don't look like you'd be any good at this job either,” Steve said, gesturing vaguely to Fury, from his eye patch to his crocs, which Steve was just now noticing.

To his great and unending surprise, Fury smiled.

The rest of the interview was a blur of auto-pilot, which would come back to Steve in snippets over the next two days and cause another bout of groaning and face-palming. He was sure he’d blown it. No one wanted a mouthy employee. Most of his face-palming, though, was due to his utterly horrific interaction with Bucky. He'd told Sam every detail of _that_ nightmare first, through a throw pillow clutched against his face when he'd returned to their apartment after the interview. 

"You're gonna be rubbing shoulders with lots of stars now, Steve. Don't worry about it, you'll get used to it," Sam had said to soothe him.

But lots of other stars weren't the problem. The problem was that he'd gotten a chance to meet Bucky Barnes and he'd wasted it. Steve wasn't some drooling fanboy, he knew celebrities were just people. But the added stress of the interview, and the fact that it was Bucky, who just seemed to get Steve hot under the collar like nobody else, made him act like a 17 year old again. Two days later, and Steve felt like his blush was _finally_ dissipating. 

Though the simple fact that the interview was over was a huge relief, Steve still answered every unknown phone call with a bit of trepidation, until it finally came. Sam was chopping bell peppers as Steve sat at the counter with a beer when he answered.

“Yes, absolutely. Thank you, Mr. Fury. Nick, of course. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Sam was grinning. “I told you, man! Congratulations!”

“Oh my god,” Steve said, setting his forehead on the counter. The euphoria shot through him side-by-side with anxiety. Finally, he grinned. “Oh my god!”

“I’m calling Darcy. We need to celebrate,” Sam announced.

**

Lucky for him, he had the whole of Sunday to sleep off the epic hangover from his congratulatory party. Darcy was a terrible influence, but heaps of fun. She’d brought her friend Jane, in an attempt to set Steve up, but it was clear they were going to be great friends and nothing more. 

Steve strode directly to the gate on Monday morning. The guard grinned at him. He was an older gentleman, with white hair, a grey moustache and large brown glasses. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Rogers,” he said cheerfully, handing him a badge. “Swipe that at the door in the gate, and you won’t even have to talk to this old man anymore.”

“Thanks, Stan,” Steve said, reading his name tag.

Steve made his way to wardrobe and found Fury amongst the racks of pantaloons.

He was assigned two characters to dress: the leading man and lady. Steve was about to protest at such a big responsibility for someone so new, but found that he was quite excited for the challenge. Nick gave him a script to read and a sketch pad and pencils.

“Who’s playing the leads?” Steve asked, as he made himself a nest in the couch debris that had doubled since he’d last been there.

“Peggy Carter and James Barnes,” Fury replied, muffled from behind a plate of armor.

Steve’s vision went white for a moment and he coughed violently as he choked on his own spit. There was always so much commotion in the studios; several movies, series and talk shows filming at once, he never even let himself dream that he’d be…

Nick poked his bald head out from behind a rack, a spear in one hand and a furrow in his brow like he wasn’t sure if he was going to need to call an ambulance or perform CPR.

 _Bucky Barnes._ He’d be dressing Bucky Barnes. He’d be measuring and having meetings and fittings with Bucky Barnes.

Steve leaned back against the couch, crumpling the magazine pages and sketches that were littered behind him.

He was utterly and completely _fucked_.


	2. Chiffon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve settles into his new job and gets to know his co-workers. One in particular.

Steve was beginning to get a feel for Fury after four days on the job. He was a strong personality, passionate about what he believed in. But he wasn’t around much, once Steve had gotten his official training on Shield procedures.

Steve had read the script to get to know the characters, and had sketched a couple pages worth of designs. He was currently taking a break by rifling through the many racks of costumes.

Some were ready-made items that had been altered, but some were from scratch. There was an adjoining room beyond the clothing racks that held four sewing machines and sergers, and a wall full of fabric and notions. That was the direction Steve wanted to take his first silver screen costumes. Made from scratch, not even a premade pattern, so he could get every detail just so.

There was a rap at the door frame, and he poked his head out from behind the rack of blazers. Bucky stood at the door with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“You got the job!” he said excitedly, raising his coffee-laden hands. Steve blushed and ducked his head. He’d been mentally preparing himself for interactions with Bucky, though he hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this.

“Thanks to you getting me here on time,” Steve replied. He was mortified about his behavior the last time they met and was determined to not let his crush on Bucky get the best of him. He thought it was going well so far. Bucky seemed pleased that he was able to string coherent words together a bit better this time around.

“I think you did most of the work. Here,” he said, holding out a coffee with the half-smile Steve had seen so often in his movies. “I took the liberty. It’s just black, I don’t know how you like it yet.”

As much as Steve had prepared himself for speaking with Bucky, he hadn’t prepared for Bucky _flirting_ with him, which was what his brain was trying to tell him was happening right now. The rational part of him dismissed the thought instantly.

“Thanks, black is perfect,” he said, taking the offered cup. He’d written “Congratulations! :)” on the cardboard sleeve in messy script.

“What’d I tell you about Fury, huh?” Bucky said, strolling in to flop down on the couch, on top of everything, testing the temperature of the coffee carefully against his lips. Steve leaned back against the vanity.

“He’s not so bad. He actually seems to have given me run of the place,” Steve gestured around vaguely.

“Must be those trustworthy eyes,” Bucky teased. “So you’re doing my wardrobe? What’ve you got for my uniform?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow over those dancing blue eyes.

The movie was a WWII period piece about a GI’s romance with a British nurse, and Steve was totally in his element. He loved the ‘40s era fashion, and set his cup down to grab his sketchbook and move to the couch. He handed Bucky his sketchbook and dumped a pile of fabric unceremoniously onto the floor so he could sit next to him. The first page was a bare-bones sketch of a Sergeant’s uniform.

Steve gestured for Bucky to flip the page. There were sketches and doodles across the page, culminating in a waist-up of Bucky in an olive green jacket, complete with brass buttons and army pins. Steve realized he may have spent a little too much time on Bucky’s face and hair, with detailing and shadowing, but it was too late now.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed. “These are really good.”

Steve chuckled nervously, swiping his hand over the back of his neck. “Thanks. Like I said, I went to art school, and have always liked drawing. It’s helped me out in designing.”

"Could I have one of these?" Bucky asked, then amended quickly, when Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "Just when you're done with them, I mean. It's--it's really great," he said with a small chuckle.

"Yeah, of course," Steve replied. He always thought he was pretty good, but was sure his artwork didn't deserve the reverence with which Bucky was admiring it. 

There was a rap at the door and both men looked up to see Peggy Carter leaning her hip against the doorway.

“Hello there, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just dropped by to say hello,” she said with a smile. She was in a white blouse and black slacks, and she was even more gorgeous in person than on screen. 

“More like you heard our new costumer is a beefcake and you came to get your hands on him,” Bucky teased. Steve was pretty sure he blacked out for a second.

Peggy laughed, “While that _is_ the word that’s going around, my intentions are pure, I assure you.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. Steve rose to take it. “Peggy Carter, pleasure to meet you.”

“Steve Rogers, likewise.” Steve stood, taking a fistful of fabric scraps and thread spools with him from the couch and gesturing to the open space. Peggy sat at the edge of the cushion and crossed her ankles while Steve grabbed the chair from the vanity.

“How has Nick been treating you? Gently, I hope.”

“Oh, he’s been just fine,” Steve replied. "Not nearly as terrifying as his name, or his eye patch, suggests."

"Did Bucky tell you about chiffon?"

The three of them laughed and chatted easily for a few minutes about the goings on at the studio and the production schedule. It was the most surreal moment of Steve's life.

“Well, I suppose I ought to leave you boys to it,” she said with a lopsided smile at Bucky, who Steve thought might’ve been glaring at her, but he was trying hard not to look at him too much. “Steve, I’ll be seeing you. I trust you’ll make me look gorgeous.”

“Won’t be hard,” Steve said, standing as Peggy took her leave.

Bucky was looking at him incredulously as Steve sat back down.

“What?” 

Bucky just shook his head with a smile. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, trying and failing to suppress a grin behind his coffee cup. He was pretty sure that sounded like a compliment.

“Yeah. Not sure what, yet,” Bucky said. He had to run to a read-through with the cast, and shot Steve a friendly grin as he left. Steve managed to keep his feet until Bucky was out of sight, then he collapsed on the couch, mentally exhausted.

His couldn't stop his mind from playing back everything Bucky had said. Steve slid down on the couch to rest his head on the armrest. He needed to stop that train of thought at the station. Bucky  _wasn’t_ gay; Steve had seen pictures of him a while ago on tabloid covers and on the Internet with the Russian supermodel Natalia Romanova. Not that no one could fake a relationship, but it seemed genuine. They were together for a while before they split up a few months ago. 

Even if he wasn't strictly straight, Bucky would never be interested in _him_. A man couldn't go from dating arguably the most beautiful woman in the world to a dork like him. Steve wasn't unaware of his physical attractiveness, he was just painfully aware of Bucky's.

 _Even_ if Bucky  _was_ mildly interested, for the sake of his heart, Steve needed to avoid that like the plague. He was never a casual relationship kind of guy. It would be all too easy to fall head over heels for Bucky, he could tell already, and it would never work out between them, even if Bucky wanted something serious. Bucky was constantly traveling all over the world for press and shooting, surrounded by beautiful people who all wanted a piece of him. Steve couldn’t compete. It spelled heartbreak all over.

“Glad to see you’re working hard,” Fury said, strolling in through the back room. Steve startled so hard that couch debris flew up around him and onto the floor.

“I was just…” Steve started, but trailed off.

“Let’s see what you’ve sketched up so far,” Fury said, holding his hand out for Steve’s sketchbook. Steve handed it over. Fury made a few grunting noises, but Steve couldn't tell what they meant.

“I haven’t done many for Ms. Carter yet, but I was thinking we could do something with…chiffon?” he offered hopefully.

Fury narrowed his eyes at him for a moment.

“Why would we do anything but chiffon? 100% yes on the chiffon, obviously. I think red, don’t you?” he said, sitting down beside Steve and dumping his tin of colored pencils on the coffee table. Steve grimaced as the yellow and green pencils rolled off onto the floor, but pointed over Fury’s arm to indicate a lower neckline and a flutter sleeve.

** 

They’d begun building a fantastic 1942 New York street scene in the open air lot, and Steve was poking around a few days later. Walking by the old cars and storefronts seemed to transport him back in time. It was delightful.

“Clint!” Steve called, as he caught sight of his blonde friend stringing up some cables along a green screen.

He didn’t turn, so Steve jogged up to him and tapped his leg where he stood on the third step of a ladder. He grinned as he glanced down, and reached into his ear to turn his hearing aid back on.

“Hey, man, you got the job!” Clint said, giving him a bro shake-hug.

He and Clint met in college, when Clint got the lead in Robin Hood and Steve dressed him.

“Yeah, thank you for telling me about it. It’s amazing!”

“Have you met Peggy yet?” Clint asked earnestly. Steve laughed.

“I have and yes, she’s a bombshell and a half, just like you said.”

Somebody called for Clint to help them hang something, and Steve waved him off. He was about to head back to wardrobe when he saw Bucky walking across the lot toward a red-haired woman. She was wearing dark jeans with sandals and a white tank top. It seemed at odds with Natalia Romanova's 24-hour glam goddess persona. She was shorter than he thought, but no less beautiful.

Bucky touched her arms as he reached her, and they talked closely for a minute, before walking off together, Bucky’s hand settling on the small of her back.

Steve’s stomach sank, and he cursed himself for it.

** 

There was a big kitchen on the studio lot that Fury had shown Steve when he'd taken him around on a tour on his first day on the job. Steve used it to toast the bagels he brought in for breakfast. It was generally all but abandoned. Posh people in the movie business didn't usually bring their own lunches. More often than not, though, a big blonde guy was there sipping his coffee out of a gigantic mug that looked like a prop from a Viking movie and munching on something or other. 

Steve asked to sit with him one day, after they'd exchanged nods and hello's a half dozen times.

"Please do, my friend," he said in a Norse accent, sweeping his hand across the table grandly.

Steve had seen him on set fiddling with the lights, and discovered his name was, charmingly, Thor. He spoke familiarly, and Steve got the impression that he'd considered them friends since the first nod they'd exchanged.

They had breakfast together almost every day after that. 

** 

Peggy was just leaving wardrobe the next day when Bucky walked in with two coffees. Steve was still a little dazed from his conversation with her; she was so beautiful and sharp it was dazzling.

“Hey Peg,” Bucky said as she passed. 

“Is this going to be a regular thing? Because I’ll cancel my next delivery of K-cups if it is.” Steve said as he took the offered cup. His heart still skipped whenever he saw Bucky, he figured that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, but he was having an easier time being himself around him. He thought they might even be friends.

“Well would you look at that?” Bucky said as he sat on the clean sofa. Steve could take it no longer and had spent the entire previous afternoon cleaning and organizing the wardrobe office. “I had no idea this thing was purple.”

“Hey, I pulled the chiffon trick with Fury,” Steve said conspiratorially. He’d been dying to tell him about it. “I was hoping to save it a while, but I had to play it already. Probably doesn't bode well for me.”

Bucky laughed that easy laugh of his that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“It's not a one-time card. I know Peggy's played it at least three times. I’m pretty sure he’s caught on to us by now, but somehow it still works.”

"Good to know. I have a feeling I'm going to be getting into trouble with him a lot," Steve said, moving to perch on the opposite armrest.

"You, trouble? Please, you're 100% all-American boy scout," Bucky said, but for some reason Steve knew he didn't really believe it.

So he shot him a fake glare. "I'll have you know, I got into my fair share of trouble as a kid. I had a big mouth and didn't know when to shut it. Still don't," he said.

"Let me guess, defending ladies' honor; sticking up for the little guys?"

Steve wasn't about to tell him he'd been one of the little guys. "Something like that."

“So listen," Bucky said casually, "today’s Tuesday. Some of the crew goes out to Johnny’s for pancake dinners at six, if you wanna come?”

Steve hesitated. He wanted to, very very much. Which was why he was glad he had a legitimate excuse.

“Ah, I would, but this guy’s got a date with Peggy Carter tonight,” he said, jabbing his thumbs at himself, trying to laugh about it and sounding incredibly dorky instead.

“Oh?” Bucky said, his grin falling.

“Uh, yeah she asked me to dinner,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, get it, man,” Bucky said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m looking for Steve,” a man said as he strolled in the room without so much as a knock.

Steve stood. “You must be Brock,” he said, offering his hand. Fury had outfits lined up for a couple of minor characters, and had tasked Steve with the fittings.

Brock was a big guy who looked like he enjoyed the gym and possibly also tanning beds. He blatantly appraised Steve with a lascivious look as he shook his hand.

Bucky groaned quietly and Steve thought he heard him say, “I can’t watch this” under his breath as he stood.

“I’ll see you later, Steve. Rumlow.” Bucky said, as he left. Steve got the feeling there was no love lost between the two of them.

Turned out Bucky had the right idea about the guy. Steve had to shut him down pretty hard for him to get the point, and practically shoved him out the door. 

Steve worked at the studio until it was time to meet Peggy.

Despite having a date with one of the most respected actresses of his generation, Steve was surprisingly calm about it. He felt a connection with Peggy, like they'd known each other for years. He didn't have any illusions about how the night would go. Every date he'd been on in the recent past ended the same; he wound up with a lot of great friends. He was glad for that, but Steve was starting to _miss_ something, he just didn't know what he was looking for.


	3. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite trying to save himself from eventual heartbreak, Steve can't seem to stay away from Bucky.

His date with Peggy was nice. She was funny, sweet, and six kinds of beautiful. But as he suspected, there was something that just wasn’t there. Steve might not have noticed the lack of it before, but he’d felt it, the  _heat_ , whenever he was in a room with Bucky, and now felt its absence acutely.

Peggy proved to be as in tune with Steve as he thought she'd be, and she seemed to get the same feeling. She gave him a peck on the cheek at the end of the night.

“We should do this again,” she suggested.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve replied sincerely. 

He was cheerful when he returned to the apartment. He was settling in to his job, and had a couple new friends. The fact that those two new friends were A-list Hollywood actors was something he still hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around.

“Hey man, you look like you might burst into song,” Sam said from where he was playing a video game on the couch. Steve hadn’t seen Sam between when Peggy had invited him out and when he’d left to meet her, so he took great pleasure in telling him where he’d been. There was even still lipstick on his cheek to show him.

“You WHAT?” Sam bellowed, abandoning his game as Steve cackled and weakly fended off half-hearted punches.

He spent half the night trying to explain the fact that he didn’t feel any spark between them, but that he thought they’d be great friends. Sam pretended not to get it, but Steve knew him better than that. He still made Steve promise he’d introduce them.

** 

Steve had a meeting with the producer the next Tuesday. He hadn't seen Bucky since last week when he'd declined his invitation to dinner with the crew. Steve was starting to worry he'd offended him, but he reminded himself that it was just a friendly invitation, and Bucky had no reason to visit him.

Pepper Potts was renowned in the industry for her cool head and stern but fair demeanor. Her office was on the other end of the lot, where Steve had first ended up while trying to get to his interview, so he was a little familiar with it. There was a man leaning against her open door frame as Steve approached.

"Tony, there's no room in the budget," he heard a feminine voice saying, in a long-suffering tone. 

"C'mon Pep, you found room for Thor's fancy lights."

"That's because I like Thor."

"Ok, I know you're joking, but ouch."

"If you can give me hard numbers and a good reason why, instead of just "I want to," then I might be able to find room. Go work on that, you're holding up my two o'clock," Pepper said cordially, and Tony spun around to see Steve waiting a few feet behind.

"Sorry to interrupt." 

Past Tony, Steve saw Pepper sitting on the edge of her desk, and she waved away his apology.

"Please come in, Tony was just leaving."

"She looks nice, but she's ruthless," Tony hissed as he passed, but he was fighting a grin.

"Forgive him, and whatever you do, don't listen to a thing he says," Pepper said, almost fondly, as she moved to her seat behind her desk, and Steve took the chair in front.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm so sorry we haven't met sooner. I trust Nick's given you good direction, I just wanted to discuss your vision for wardrobe," Pepper said, opening up a script and a notepad next to it. Steve was glad he'd brought his sketchbook. 

During their meeting, Pepper fielded several interruptions at her door with grace and aplomb before a serious matter took her attention. She made another appointment with him for lunch down the street the next day, to get away from the hubub so they could finish their discussion.

As Steve was crossing the open lot to return to wardrobe, Bucky came out of the red door toward him. He was wearing a black zip-up hoodie over a blue T-shirt that matched his eyes, and his hair was loose about his face. Steve bit back a wistful sigh.

"There you are." He was smiling brightly, and he had a coffee in one hand. "You weren't in your hidey-hole so I gave your coffee away to Clint."

"That's alright, I know you get it free from the kitchen anyway," Steve said with a grin, and Bucky ducked his head with a sheepish smile. "What's up?"

"I was just coming to tell you I can't make our appointment for tomorrow. Can we do Friday instead?"

"Yeah, no problem," Steve said, taking out his phone to update his calendar. They'd made an appointment so he could get Bucky's measurements, and Steve was looking forward to it probably a little too much.

Bucky sipped his coffee and looked like he was about to leave. 

“Thanks a lot for leaving me alone with that creep the other day, by the way,” Steve said, to stay him a moment longer.

Bucky shrugged, “You’re a big dude, you can take care of yourself. All you gotta do is tell him you don’t swing that way,” Bucky said, eyeing Steve innocently over the top of his plastic coffee lid. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to lie to him,” Steve replied, still fiddling with his phone.

“Oh?” Bucky said, eyebrows up, though he had a smile on his face like that was exactly the answer he expected.

Steve hummed in confirmation.

Bucky was looking at him so closely Steve felt a blush rise to his cheeks. When Bucky noticed it, his grin turned predatory in a way Steve hadn’t seen before. It made his pulse quicken.

“So, it’s Tuesday,” Bucky said after a beat.

“Sure,” Steve agreed, without needing the rest of the invitation spoken aloud. He’d probably have agreed to anything with Bucky looking at him like that.

He was supremely _fucked._  

_**_

The crew that gathered at Johnny’s for the all-you-can-eat pancake dinner was a raucous bunch, and Steve loved them.

Bucky told him he could invite whoever he wanted, because the more the merrier, so he called Sam 16 times until he answered, breathless and exasperated. He didn’t need much prodding though, and actually hung up on Steve before he could say goodbye. 

Tony Stark, the studio’s special effects wiz who Steve had already sort of met, was constantly shouting over everyone else in order to dominate the conversation. Clint was waving his arms furiously to tell him to shut the hell up or he was going to blow another hearing aid, and this time, Stark was going to pay for it.

Bucky's friend Dugan was competing, and failing, for the waitress' attention as Thor inadvertently charmed her with his sunny, guileless grin. 

Sam alternated between watching the proceedings with interest and chatting with Maria, one of the production managers.

Steve and Bucky were currently engaging in an unofficial pancake-eating contest.

Bucky had let a drop of syrup run down his chin, intentionally, Steve was sure, in order to distract him from his own stack. It was working.

“Dabbib,” Steve grumbled through a mouthful of banana pancakes as Bucky finished his last bite and punched the air in victory.

“Ugh, I’m going to be sick,” he groaned, “but it was so worth it.”

Steve swallowed the sweet sticky mouthful and reached for his water. “A little competitive, are we?”

“You’re one to talk. This was your idea,” Bucky shot back. Steve had to give him that one.

He glanced over to find Sam watching the two of them closely. Steve ducked his head and managed to pry the waitress' attention from Thor to ask for some more water.

The table ordered pitchers of beer and Bucky didn’t leave Steve’s side all night as they talked, drank, and ordered even more pancakes.

The crew left the restaraunt in one pack and split off at the door, shouting goodnights as they walked away. Bucky started to head off with Dugan, but hesitated for a moment and called after Steve. Steve turned back to him and Bucky stepped a little bit into his space. Steve's eyes widened, but Bucky held his gaze, a little smirk playing about the corner of his mouth.

"So, the SAG awards is in a couple weeks. You should come with me."

Steve's mouth felt suddenly very dry.

"The SAG awards? Like, the red carpet and everything?"

"Ladies in dresses, guys in tuxes, the whole bit," Bucky said, clearly enjoying the opportunity to dazzle Steve. He probably was just asking him as a friend. Steve'd think about that later.

"Ah, it doesn't really sound like my thing," Steve said apologetically. He wasn't lying; flashing cameras, reporters and the Hollywood A-list; it all made him very uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that he needed to keep as much distance between him and Bucky as he could manage. He had no idea if he was even with Natalia anymore, but that didn't mean a relationship between them would ever work. Steve was just bound to get hurt.

"Whaddya mean? Going on a date with me is everybody's thing," Bucky said with a lopsided grin.

Steve coughed delicately into his fist. It was a  _date_  now?

"It's not just about the cameras and the carpets. You get to meet a ton of other cool people in the industry. And I'll be there the whole time. C'mon Stevie, it'll be fun," Bucky said, stepping a little closer and nudging their elbows together playfully.

He nearly caved at 'Stevie.' Bucky was looking at him, eyes half-lidded, his lips red and shiny from his very distracting habit of biting them. Steve was a couple inches taller, and Bucky was tilting his face up to him, presenting those lips like an invitation. Steve knew he was staring, but was powerless to stop it.

Dugan shouted back at Bucky to hurry his ass up, and Steve snapped out of it, incredibly grateful for the interruption. He probably would've done something immensely stupid otherwise, like accept Bucky's invitation or just kiss him on his beautiful mouth.

Instead, he willed himself to be strong. "Thanks, but I'll watch the proceedings in pajamas from my couch."

Bucky smiled casually, but Steve thought he might have been a little disappointed. He tried not to be thrilled by that, and failed miserably.

"No worries," he said as he backed up out of Steve's space. Steve nearly took a step forward to close the gap again, as if there was an invisible string connecting them. 

Bucky waved goodbye and jogged away to catch up with Dugan and Thor. Steve turned to see Sam leaning against Johnny's building, waiting for him. 

“So, that spark,” Sam said as they made their way home.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, sighing.

Sam, bless him eternally, didn’t say anything else about it, just threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze.

The rational part of him could insist all day long that there could never be anything between him and Bucky, but his heart had always been stubborn. 


	4. Dance With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more Steve gets to know Bucky, the closer that spark gets to becoming a flame.

* * *

Bucky was as fucked as he'd ever been.

He'd paused in the doorway to appreciate the sight before him. Steve had his back to the door as he worked, swaying a little to the jazzy number he had playing on his speaker.

The guy was almost as infuriating as he was amazing. Bucky was constantly surprised. He was an artist, a gentlemen, a troublemaker, and he was fucking _gorgeous_. Bucky wanted to know what devil Steve had made a deal with for them shoulders, so he could  _thank_  them.

He'd nearly swallowed his tongue when he met this blonde Greek god in the corridor, and the pull he had over Bucky had only gotten stronger. Though Bucky counted himself lucky to be able to call Steve a friend, and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that friendship, it was getting harder to be satisfied with only that. As impossible as it seemed, Steve was becoming exponentially more attractive the more Bucky got to know him. 

But he knew he needed to stop pushing. He needed to stop bringing coffee and flirting. It was becoming a little pathetic.

The thing was, sometimes Steve would look at him from under those impossibly long lashes and smile that little smile that sent all Bucky's blood rushing south. It reeled Bucky in like nothing he'd ever felt before, lit him up with hope, but then he'd decline Bucky's invitations. He knew by now Steve wasn't the kind of guy to play games. The best he could figure was that he didn't think Bucky was worth it.

Being a public figure came with a lot of baggage. Paparazzi, harrowing schedules, and a lot of insecurity. Bucky'd had his fair share of bad experiences with jealous exes. Pierce had hired a private detective to follow him for two weeks before he got wise and broke up with the creep. He couldn't imagine Steve falling into that trap, though. He was too good.

More than he wanted anything, Bucky wanted to prove to Steve that he was worth the lack of privacy, the long distances, and all the difficulties that sometimes came with dating a celebrity. Bucky would _worship_ him. He already kind of did. But he needed to hold back a little bit, too. If he invested himself entirely, let himself really hope he could have Steve, and was rejected...he could think of few things worse than that kind of heartbreak.

Steve started to hum along with the tune. Bucky got that sinking feeling again, the one that meant he was so far in over his head he didn't know which way was up anymore, and couldn't, didn't want to, stop himself.

* * *

Steve usually had music playing in the wardrobe room, because it could get pretty quiet at the back of the studio. The cast was still in read-throughs and the costumes were still in design, so there wasn’t much call for visitors yet.

Steve had his portable speaker playing big band songs from the Glenn Miller radio station today. He usually alternated between that, the top 50 hits and the music that was on his phone. A swingy Duke Ellington tune was playing, and Steve was nodding his head and humming along from where he stood, caught up in pinning sketches, swatches and inspiration images for Peggy's big dress onto a cork board. His back was to the door, and his music was loud enough that he didn't hear Bucky enter. But suddenly, there were hands on his hips pulling him back toward the large empty space in the center of the room.

"What's--?" Steve started, but Bucky spun him around by the shoulders and walked him right into a Lindy hop. Steve laughed, tripping for a few steps until he caught up. He'd taken a couple classes in college for fun, but he hadn't danced in at least five years. Bucky, it was obvious, had had a lot more practice. He was smooth and confident, gently pushing Steve in the direction he wanted him to turn, spinning him out and back in again, their hands never parting. He was a good couple inches taller than Bucky, and spinning under his arm was a little awkward. Steve hadn't stopped laughing.

Turned out having Bucky's hands on him was better than any alcohol or drug Steve may or may not have done in college. It left him feeling giddy and a little high. All his promises to stop flirting and give up the idea of them being together were forgotten.

“What, no cafeteria coffee?” Steve said as the song came to a close. He grabbed his phone to turn the volume down a little. “You’ve been training me to expect it. Now I crave caffeine whenever I see you.”

Bucky silently held a hand up and went over to the vanity, where two cups of coffee were waiting. He offered one to Steve with a pointed look.

"How did you get so good at that?" Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, "My mom was real into it when I was a kid. You're not too bad, yourself."

"I took a class in college, and I had two left feet then, too," Steve said, raising his cup to his lips, though it was still too hot to drink. He'd already had a cup that morning, but he wasn’t going to say anything about that.

"You kiddin'? For a big dude, you're pretty graceful."

Bucky's flirty comments still made Steve's blood race, even though he knew by now he didn't really mean anything by it. 

"Sorry I'm a little early for my appointment," Bucky said.

"Oh, right," Steve said, gesturing back toward the sewing room behind the clothing racks. "I'm ready for you."

In one corner of the sewing room was a platform raised about 4" high, in front of three standing mirrors. Bucky stepped up onto it without prompting. Steve set his notepad on the platform and grabbed his tape measure from a hook on the wall.

"Okay, just relax for a minute," Steve said, and tried to take his own advice.

He could feel Bucky watching him in the mirror as he took his arm, neck and inseam and jotted it down in his notebook. He was trying to touch him as little as possible, but it was like they were two magnets. After having him so close to him while dancing, he kept getting drawn back in. Bucky was solid and warm under his hands, his muscles sharp and taut. Steve felt the room charge with heavy tension, certain it was one-sided.

"Arms up," Steve murmured, standing behind Bucky and touching the inside of his wrists gently to encourage him. He flicked his eyes up over Bucky's shoulder to glance at him in the mirror, and Bucky's eyes were firmly trained on him, expression unreadable.

"Okay, all set. Relatively painless, right?" Steve said, stepping back quickly and winding the tape measure around his neck. After a moment, Bucky turned and stepped off the platform in front of him.

He had an odd look on his face, sort of concerned, like he wasn't sure what had just happened. He visibly snapped himself out of it and smiled.

"I suppose it's starting to get pretty busy around here, I can take off if you need to work," he offered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Well, I'm just going to be drafting your pattern. You could stay," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you want."

"Ok," Bucky agreed with a big grin and Steve felt a little light headed under the brilliance of it.

Steve gathered his supplies on the cutting table and started working as Bucky puttered around, touching fabrics and toying with the array of rulers Steve was using. He asked a lot of questions about what Steve was doing.

"Seems complicated," Bucky remarked. Steve shrugged, concentrating on the lines of the pattern.

"Not after you do it for a while."

Bucky was quiet for a few moments, so Steve glanced up and found Bucky watching him intently again. He blushed and looked back down, certain he was misinterpreting the heat in his blue-grey eyes.

"So I saw Natalia's going to be doing some acting, now. You guys gonna work together at all?" Steve asked, innocently. If her name was in the news these days, his eyes seemed to catch on it.

"Oh, did she decide to go for it? Last I heard she wasn't going to." Steve glanced up, but Bucky was re-folding a yard of red satin that had fallen from the shelf as he'd been rifling through it.

"Aren't you two..." Steve trailed off, torn between elation and dread. 

Bucky shrugged. "Didn't work out." He hoisted himself up on the counter, leaning his back against the wall. Steve didn't want to pry, even though he was hungry for the details. Bucky went on, anyway.

"It's just bad timing. I was ready for more...a family, and she just wasn't," he said plainly, though it was clear it pained him.

"I'm sorry, Buck," Steve said honestly. Bucky shook his head.

"Really, it's okay. We were friends before we were anything else, so I'd never want to put pressure on her like that." He grabbed a ruler from a shelf next to him and smacked it on his thigh idly. "I just keep thinking maybe I could wait for her, and then we get together again and I wind up in the same spot. She's never made any secret of how she feels, I just can't seem to let her go for good."

Steve swallowed hard against jealousy rising unexpectedly at the back of his throat. He had no right, but it was there all the same.

"What about you," Bucky asked, jutting his chin toward Steve. "How's it going with Peggy?"

"She's great. We'll be friends, I think."

Bucky shot him an exasperated look that made Steve laugh.

"Yeah I know, I already got that from Sam. I know she's amazing, but it's just...not there."

Bucky nodded in understanding, but Steve couldn't hold his gaze for long; it felt like he could see right through him. 

"Steve?" he heard Peggy call from the other room.

"Back here, Peggy!" he called. She appeared a moment later and glanced quickly between the two of them. She shot him a small knowing smile that made Steve worry just how much of his heart was written all over his face.

"Speak of the devil," Bucky said with a grin.

"You two gossiping about me? I'm sure Barnes was besmirching my good name," Peggy teased archly. 

"Who could have anything but good things to say about you?" Bucky said, hopping down from the counter.

"I believe we have an appointment," she said delicately to Steve.

Bucky said goodbye, shooting Steve a smile. He nudged Peggy's shoulder with his as he passed by her.

Peggy quirked an eyebrow at Steve after Bucky'd gone, but Steve just cleared his throat and offered her a hand up onto the platform. Peggy stood still, keeping an eye on Steve's movements, moving and lifting her arms with little prompting as Steve tried asking her about her day. 

"I've known Bucky for years, you know. He's a good man," Peggy said, ignoring his question.

Steve opened his mouth to idly agree, but he knew what she was really suggesting. 

"It wouldn't work."

"Oh, you're clairvoyant now? Why not?" she asked, straight to the point and a little sharp. Steve appreciated that about her.

"He's got this thing with Natalia, and he's traveling so much and just starting to get really popular and I'm..." Steve trailed off, gesturing vaguely in the air and knowing full well how pathetic he sounded. Peggy had her hands on her hips, staring at him in the mirror. She turned finally, and cupped his face in both her hands.

"Steve, you're _such_ a catch," she said genuinely, and then pinched his cheeks roughly.

"Ow," he protested weakly.

"You need to give yourself more credit. He'd be lucky to have you, the rest of it be damned."

He knew she meant well, but she just didn't understand.

So, he just covered her hands with his and smiled sadly. "Thanks, Peg."

**

"Why are you even going in?" Sam asked, as he opened the door to let Steve out of their apartment. His hands were full of bolts of fabric and bags of thread and kleenex. He sneezed violently and a brass button shook out of somewhere and clattered on the floor.

Sam sighed patiently and picked it up, shoved it in Steve's coat pocket.

"I got work to do. I cancelled my appointment so I won't be infecting anybody," Steve rasped. It was just with Bucky's stunt double, anyway. He could make it up next week, when he felt better.

"For a smart guy, you're not too bright," Sam was saying.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve grumbled, and went anyway.

Two hours later, Steve was big enough (and miserable enough) that he could admit that Sam was 100% right, as usual. His head was so fuzzy he could hardly think straight, let alone be trusted to cut any fabric. He finally gave up and laid face-down on the floor in front of the vanity, too tired to make it all the way over to the couch.

He was dimly aware of footsteps approaching, then pausing in the doorway.

"Steve? Stevie?" Bucky called.

Steve groaned a little. Bucky walked around the coffee table to stand over him.

"The fuck, man?"

Steve groaned again, but didn't move. Bucky sighed. "Come on."

He pulled Steve up enough so that he could shove him onto the couch. Steve slouched against the armrest, too cloudy to be embarrassed about his sweaty clothes and clammy skin.

"Here," Bucky said, setting a take-out carton of soup on the coffee table and pulling it up to Steve's knees. He physically put the spoon in Steve's hand. "Eat." Bucky had written "Feel better punk" on the soup lid and it made Steve terribly sentimental.

Steve mustered the strength to glare at him. "I can take care of myself."

Bucky shot him a glare that clearly translated to _Obviously._

Steve ate the soup anyway. Bucky pulled a bottle of Robitussin out of a white pharmacy bag and made him drink some of that too.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, before dissolving into a fit of coughs. Bucky winced in sympathy.

"Logan told me you cancelled. Said you sounded like shit. I thought you might be stubborn enough to still come in."

That was...really thoughtful. The idea that Bucky thought of him like that warmed Steve. A little too much. A fresh sweat broke out on his forehead and leaned back against the couch with a groan. The Robitussin was starting to kick in and made him feel a little loopy.

"You need to get home and sleep this off, Rogers," Bucky ordered. "Come on, I'll get you a cab."

Why was Bucky was always so nice to him? He certainly didn't have to be. 

"Because I'm a nice person, you ass, do I need a reason?" Bucky said, and Steve realized he'd voiced the question. 

Bucky deposited Steve in Stan's chair at the gate booth and had him call a cab. Bucky hovered at Steve's side with one hand out, as if he was afraid Steve would tip over at any moment, but then his phone trilled and he grabbed it from his back pocket.

"Oh, uh," he said uncertainly at the screen.

"Go, take it. I may have mentioned, but I can take care of myself," Steve said sullenly. Bucky didn't glare again, like Steve expected, or make any protests at all as he turned.

"Feel better," he called over his shoulder.

Steve tried not to be disappointed. Before Bucky got out of earshot, Steve strained to hear a snippet of the conversation, despite his clogged head.

"Hey. Yeah you too. Tonight? No, no I'm free."

Steve hunkered down a little further in the uncomfortable plastic chair and made delirious conversation with Stan until his cab arrived. He fell asleep in the back seat and Sam didn't say I told you so when he helped him to bed because he was a good person, and Steve was grateful for that, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews, friends :) They really inspired me, so keep them coming!


	5. The SAGs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve fucks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor and google images of Chris Evans in a suit for your visual inspiration for this chapter.

Though Steve didn't see Bucky at all that week, he saw the pictures.

Sam had tried running interference for as long as he could, standing in front of magazine racks at the grocery store and throwing away the People magazine that somehow always ended up on their coffee table. But you couldn’t walk down the street in L.A. without being blasted with celebrity news, and the pictures of Bucky and Natalia Romanova were on all the front pages. There was a particularly damning shot of them leaving a restaurant together. They both had their heads ducked against the camera flashes, and their fingers were loosely linked as Bucky tugged her along.

Steve’s heart had dropped into his shoes. He’d gathered that it was Natalia Romanova on the other end of the line that day he'd been sick, but seeing the pictures was a different story. He hoped Bucky wasn’t getting his hopes up for a long-term relationship and a family with her, only to be denied again. As much as Steve was already heartbroken over him, he’d never wish the same pain for Bucky.

Steve was practicing his nonchalance for Pancake Tuesday, and tried not to be disappointed that Bucky didn't show. Sam couldn't make it either, so Steve thought Darcy would get a kick out of the group, and vice versa. She brought Jane with her, and Steve was tickled as he watched Thor become putty in her hands.

**

Steve was surprised to get a text from Tony a few days later. They weren't the kind of acquaintances who texted.

_**Come to the lab.** _

On his short walk across the lot, he got three more texts all saying variations of the same thing. Before even stepping foot in the lab, and he was already annoyed; not a good sign.

As he approached the special effects lab, he heard Tony's voice ringing out, and Bucky grumbling in reply. His steps faltered, but he soldiered on with a deep breath, steeling himself. But he was still not prepared to see Bucky standing there, scowling and shirtless, facing the large mirror that spanned the entire back wall of the lab. Tony's workshop was a pile of organized chaos. There were vats of plaster and bits of machinery littering the space. There were bottles of Windex in varying degrees of emptiness and wads of paper towels littering the countertops in front of the mirror.

Tony was in the process of smearing plaster over Bucky's chest and left arm. He hadn't quite covered up Bucky's tattoo, which Steve could now see was an uneven grid of lines made to look like metal plating that faded out just below his elbow. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun at the back of his head, and Steve couldn't help but appreciate the strong lines of his back and shoulders.

"Steve," Bucky said, surprised.

"Oh good, someone's here to admire my brilliance. I was telling Barnes about this innovative process, but his eyes glazed over. I need someone with more brain cells to appreciate my genius, and Pepper wouldn't answer my calls."

Bucky attempted to glare as viciously and discreetly as possible at Tony, who was ignoring him and looking smug.

"Uh-uh," Steve said and turned on his heel. He could only take so much of Tony at once, and never when he was in a mood like this.

"Hey wait!" Tony called, and Steve paused, despite his better judgement. It afforded him, at least, another glance at Bucky's chest.

"C'mon, I just wanted to make sure you were coming to Johnny's next week. Bring some more of your fun friends."

"Sorry I have to leave you with him, Bucky. I wouldn't want him to accidentally drown in his plaster."

"He still might," Bucky grumbled.

Bucky showed up in wardrobe a few hours later, rolling and rubbing his left shoulder.

Steve was sitting on the couch with his storyboard, which was really just sketches and doodles on loose pages of paper, spread out before him. His stomach twisted when he looked up to see Bucky looking apologetic and devastatingly handsome in a tattered T-shirt and jeans.

“Hey, come on in, what’s up?” Steve said, shooting for casual and sounding a little strangled to his own ears.

Bucky stepped into the room, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, as if he expected a scolding. “So, you may have seen pictures of me with Nat—“

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Bucky. It’s really none of my business,” Steve said, shuffling his papers and trying to sound unaffected. 

“Oh.”

“I hope it works out this time,” Steve said, not looking up. He was a terrible liar, and was afraid it would be written all over his face. He regretted it immediately, but couldn't decide how to fix it quick enough.

“Right, thanks.”

When Steve looked up a moment later, Bucky was gone. He sighed and leaned his face into his hands. If he was doing the right thing for his heart, why did it still hurt so much?

**

It had been two weeks, the longest Steve had gone without seeing Bucky since he started working at Shield, not that he'd been counting the days or anything. _Certainly_ not.

It felt a little bit like withdrawal.

One morning, as soon as he took his coat off in wardrobe, Clint appeared behind him, apparently from the rafters, or possibly a vent shaft. He was holding a roll of some transparent sheeting that was nearly as tall as he was.

"Augh!" Steve exclaimed, the phone in his hand flying up into the air. He bobbled it a few times, but caught it before it hit the floor. He shot Clint an exasperated look, which was ignored.

"Come with me," Clint said, then took off out the door. Steve jogged to keep up with him, horribly curious. Clint would answer none of his questions until they reached Tony's special effects lab.

The plaster of Bucky's arm sat on a silver rolling cart with cans of spray paint, gears, lights and various wires lying about. There was even what appeared to be a functioning robot with one claw arm rolling around. It beeped at their entrance.

"Shut up Dum-E!" Clint whispered harshly. "Quick," he urged, pointing Steve toward the opposite end of the full-wall mirror.

"What is this?" Steve asked as he followed Clint's lead and held up the other end of the sheeting as Clint started adhering it to the mirror.

"I've been putting a layer up every week."

When it was adhered, Steve thought it made the mirror look a little darker, a little foggy, but it was subtle. He suddenly understood all the Windex bottles and paper towels he'd seen before. He turned to Clint.

"This is brilliant."

Clint cackled, gathered up the rest of the roll and they snuck away, looking this way and that out the doorway before fist bumping and strolling off innocently in opposite directions.

**

“Steve, I need your help,” Peggy said coolly as she strolled into wardrobe. She still looked as calm and collected as always, but for a slight pull between her brows.

“Sure Peggy, what’s wrong?”

“I was going to take my brother to the SAGs again, as all of my friends are too terrified and he’s old hat at it by now. But he’s come down with pneumonia,” she said with a sigh, tossing her purse and coat onto the couch and setting her hands on her hips. She was wearing a burgundy wrap dress with brown pumps and Steve admired her as he did every time he saw her.

“Oh yikes, I hope he’ll be alright,” Steve said sympathetically, not understanding yet what he had to do with the situation.

“Which leaves me wanting a handsome fellow to escort me,” she said, eyebrows raised pointedly.

“What, for tonight? No, no, I can’t. I’ve already turned Bucky down.” He already fucked up enough by shutting Bucky down when he was obviously just trying to talk to him as a friend about what was going on with him and Natalia. Steve didn’t want to make matters worse before he could try to repair their friendship. He needed to set his feelings aside and be a good friend to Bucky; listen to him talk about his relationship with Natalia if need be. If that was what Bucky wanted from him, he would do it gladly, as hard as it was on his heart. He’d rather be Bucky’s friend than nothing at all to him.

"Why don't you ask Thor? Or...I've seen you talking to Dum-Dum, take him."

Peggy sighed. "Thor is taking Jane, and Timothy would spit at the first reporter who made a sexist comment."

"And that's not a good thing?"

"No. Not only can I defend my own honor, but I believe you'd be able to show a little more aplomb."

"Not sure you'd be right," Steve admitted. He had a bad habit of getting indignant on other people's behalf.

"Well, you'll look better in a tux, anyway. Dugan's taken a liking to bowler hats," she said with a grimace. “Besides, Bucky will understand. This is an emergency,” Peggy implored, setting her hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I’ll walk you through the entire process start to finish so there won’t be any surprises.”

Steve thought she could hardly guarantee that, but agreed to at least hear her out. They sat on the couch and talked about the event for the next hour and, just as Peggy had planned, he felt surprisingly far less nervous about the prospect than before.

“I still don’t feel right about going after I told Bucky it wasn’t my thing. He’ll think it was just an excuse.”

“So you explain it to him. Honestly, Steve, I don’t understand why open communication is such a difficult concept,” she said, gathering her purse and coat as if the discussion were over.

“Hang on, now.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she said with finality. “Get a tux and my car will pick you up at eight.”

Steve felt thoroughly railroaded, but Peggy was in a bind and he didn’t want to leave her hanging. Plus, it really would be good to make more connections, just as Bucky had told him when he’d first invited him.

He still had an uneasy feeling about it. He was going to have to do some major damage control with Bucky. As much as he knew he’d been sending mixed signals, he couldn’t stand Bucky being mad at him. Their budding friendship, while surely unsustainable under the growing attraction Steve felt, was important to him.

**

Getting a good tux in under six hours was no easy feat. Steve ended up having to cobble together something suitable from the wardrobe collection. He lengthened a pair of black slacks and found a black blazer Fury had made that fit him well enough. It might have been a little snug across the shoulders, but most things were.

As he waited for Peggy's car, he was straightening his tie and smoothing his hair for the sixth time when he saw Bucky appear in the mirror behind him, looking confused. Steve spun to face him, heart jumping. He knew if he didn't see Bucky at the event, he'd find out eventually, but Steve wasn’t prepared to have this conversation yet. He still had to practice his explanation without somehow also baring his heart.

“You’re in a suit,” Bucky said softly, sounding a little dazed as his eyes roamed over Steve.

“Astute as ever,” Steve said glibly, trying not to squirm under Bucky's scrutiny.

“Why are you in a suit,” Bucky said sharply, eyes narrowed and darting back to Steve’s. Steve held his palms out to placate him.

“It was an emergency. I didn’t want to go, but Peggy’s brother has pneumonia.”

“Oh, and she couldn’t get another date?” Bucky scoffed. He had a garment bag draped over his arm, and Steve wondered what had brought Bucky here in the first place.

“Of course she could, but she asked me.”

“ _I_ asked you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. She walked me through the whole thing step by step and I’m a lot less nervous about it. I’m—“

“No, it’s fine, really. I’ll see you there,” Bucky said with a tight smile.

“Bucky—“ he called, frustrated, but Bucky was gone. Steve sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

That certainly couldn't have gone any worse. His hole was getting deeper and deeper.

**

Steve surprised himself by being confident and charming all night. It was as though when the lights hit him, he became someone completely different. It didn’t hurt that Peggy was beside him, gracious and clever as always. She was stunning in a dusty purple bias-cut frock by Zuhair Murad that hugged her hips and fanned out below her knees. The jewels at the neckline drew attention to her dark red lips and the retro waves in her hair.

Steve’s favorite part of the whole night was meeting the fans that lined up behind the velvet ropes, shouting Peggy’s name for autographs as they neared. Steve spoke with some of them and made sure they got pictures with Peggy. One even asked for his autograph.

“Mine? But I’m nobody,” Steve said, flabbergasted.

“You must be, you’re here,” the girl said, and Steve felt rather gratified as he signed her book, and got a picture with her on her phone as well as his own, for posterity.

“Bucky!” Peggy exclaimed, waving behind them to where Bucky had stopped for the photographers, with none other than Natalia Romanova standing next to him. Steve froze in the spot for a moment, and Peggy had to flap her hand at him to get him to follow her over to greet her co-star. Steve was trying not to think about the disaster he'd gotten himself into with Bucky and just enjoy himself for the night, but he was always in the back of his mind. And now, in front of him.

Peggy kissed Natalia’s cheeks, and the women looked genuinely happy to see each other. Steve hadn't thought Bucky could _be_ any more attractive, but was proven wrong. He was tailored to perfection in a black suit, white shirt and black bow tie. Steve's heart jumped, and he curled his hands into fists against the terribly compelling desire to touch him. Natalia, in the flesh and glamoured up, was nearly blinding. She wore a simple black dress, but there was something stunning about it Steve couldn’t even identify. It must have been the simple fact of the woman wearing it.

“Steve, this is Natalia,” Peggy said, and Steve took her hand gently in his.

“Pleasure,” he said. Natalia seemed to assess him all at once, and her smile was small, but warm.

“Hi Bucky,” Steve said awkwardly. Bucky put on his "camera smile" and said hello as impersonally as possible. It gave Steve a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Peggy, ever the diplomat, saved the group from the awkward moment.

“Well, I believe they’ll be starting soon. We should get in, don’t want to be late.”

**

Bucky watched Peggy and Steve walk away. It was bad news any way he parsed it. Either Steve had found the ‘it’ he’d claimed was missing with Peggy, or just truly didn’t want to date him.

Ever since he’d gone to visit Steve to explain the pictures that were going around and gotten the brush off, he’d been tense. His jaw was actually sore from clenching it. When he’d gone to see him that morning, he’d intended to lay everything out once and for all, for better or worse, just to get the weight off his chest, but he was glad it didn’t get that far. He’d have just made a fool of himself. Of course, finding Steve in wardrobe looking like a GQ cover just made things all the worse. He knew he could've been a little more mature about him coming to the awards after all, but it hurt. A lot more than he expected it to.

Natalia scoffed quietly behind him.

“Idiot,” she murmured, brushing past him to head toward the end of the red carpet and into the event.

As he trailed after her, Bucky couldn’t help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews--they make me smile and keep me warm at night!  
> And don't worry, despite Steve being a stubborn idiot, Bucky's too into him to give up so easy.


	6. Oh Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky can't seem to stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that last one was rough, so consider this my apology.

Steve was heading toward the kitchen one morning to fill up his water bottle and maybe snag one of the yogurt cups Bruce always kept stocked for the staff when he heard Tony and Bucky talking.

"There were seven layers of it. This was a long con. My money's on Barton."

"Does he have the patience for it though? Maybe it was Pepper," Bucky said, clearly trying to vex Tony.

"What's going on?" Steve asked innocently as he entered, busying himself in the fridge after nodding quickly at Bucky. His hair was freshly cut for his role, longer on top and shorter on the sides. As much as Steve loved his longer locks, this cut suited him. It drew attention to his neck and jaw. Or at least, it drew  _Steve's_  attention.

He'd seen Bucky in passing a few times on the lot, but their interactions had been limited. Steve'd had Bucky's uniform jacket basted and ready for a fitting for two days, but had been taking a break from it by working on some of Peggy’s things. He was putting off the fitting and he knew it, but he didn't know where they stood.

"Cap, tell Clint that I know it was him and retribution will be swift and severe," Tony instructed.

"I'm not your messenger, Tony, you can tell him yourself," Steve said coolly.

Steve had no idea what gave him away, but Bucky was suddenly fighting a grin. Tony glanced between Steve's challenging stare and Bucky, who was resolutely avoiding eye contact.

Tony gasped. "Et tu, Brute?"

Steve turned and left without another word, Bucky's warm laughter ringing out into the hallway.

**

With filming five days a week and putting out fires, both figurative and literal, the crew hadn’t been able to get themselves together enough to go for pancake dinner for the past few weeks.

But things had gone smoothly for the past few days, and Thor texted him to let him know Johnny’s was a go for Tuesday.

Every time he’d gone, different people always joined, but it was always the same core group that Steve was beginning to think of as real friends.

Fury showed up this time, flanked by Maria, who made him more approachable just by sitting next to him. His presence at the table seemed to slightly subdue everyone except Tony, who seemed to go out of his way to be as obnoxious as possible.

Bucky also showed up with Dugan, about twenty minutes after the rest of the party had convened. They squeezed in between Thor and Maria, who patted Bucky's hair as he sat, putting Bucky directly across from Steve. Bucky shot him a small smile when he caught his eye, and Steve released a breath he felt he'd been holding for the past month and a half.

“Hey Captain,” Rhodey, one of Tony’s friends, called down the table, and Steve was surprised to find all eyes on him.

“What's with that?” Steve asked. It wasn't the first time someone called him Captain America. Usually it was Tony, and he'd yet to get the story behind it.

“I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you were in on that amazing prank Barton pulled.”

“To be fair, he roped me in at the last minute. He was the brains of the operation.” News of Tony's obsession with the mysterious mirror ailment had spread throughout the studio, and Clint was on cloud nine.

“Never thought I’d hear that sentence spoken aloud,” Tony said into his glass. Clint chucked a fry at him. Tony picked it up off his shirt and popped it in his mouth.

“That means he’s one of us now,” Clint said. "One of us. One of us," he chanted, and Tony and Rhodey joined in. “One of us. One of us." They pounded on the table with their fists until everyone joined in, except Fury, who just rolled his eye.

Steve made a ‘settle down’ motion with his hands and stood, since it seemed like the thing to do. When they still didn’t shut up, he stepped up onto his chair. The hostess always tucked them away in the back of the place, as they usually caused a ruckus, so the other patrons didn't pay him much mind.

“As one of you,” he began, and continued over their hoots and cheers, “I pledge to never take more than my share of Bruce's yogurt, use the chiffon trick only in case of the greatest emergencies and try to get Tony in as much trouble with Pepper as possible," he vowed, hand over his heart and ignoring Tony's protests. "But you still have to explain this Captain America nickname to me.”

He didn't get a straight answer until the end of the night when Tony, half in the bag, explained that he had a military demeanor and a heroic jawline.

"Plus, Bruce saw you literally escort an old lady across the street once," Bucky chimed in.

"That's just basic good manners," Steve shot back. Bucky raised one eyebrow.

"OH MY GOD," Clint shouted, throwing his hands up. "I just remembered, your birthday is the 4th of July!"

Steve just smiled.

"Holy shit," Tony whispered, before the shouts of laughter erupted.

**

"Cut!"

Peggy was snorting with laughter as Bucky gasped and pouted over his torn shirtsleeve. 

"Wardrobe!"

Steve hustled up onto the set from where he waited in the wings. They'd been filming for three weeks, and seeing all the work that went into every tiny scene was as baffling as it was impressive. The lighting, sound, the entire ambiance. If Steve let himself believe, it was like being transported back in time.

They were filming a romantic scene, which began with an argument between the characters. Peggy had gotten away with herself and yanked Bucky's shirt, pulling the stitching at the shoulder. Steve was flushed with embarrassment that his stitching hadn't been stronger.

"I ran away with myself and ruined your work," Peggy apologized. "I'm always doing things like that."

Steve pulled a needle and thread from the bag on his belt to quickly mend the seam.

"Nice fanny pack," Bucky said, looking highly amused. 

"Thanks," Steve replied haughtily.

Being close to Bucky again was like a balm on a wound he'd been carrying his whole life and hadn't truly noticed. It was cause for a bit of concern, how deeply relieved Steve was to simply be on speaking terms with him again, and how buoyant one smile from the brunette could make him. Steve worried he was losing control of the situation; of his heart, but couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He thought he was being a good friend to Bucky by ignoring it. Sam said he was being an idiot. In either case, it seemed he was something of a masochist.

"Ok muscles," Steve said to Peggy, once he'd knotted the thread. "Maybe like this next time." Steve demonstrated grabbing Bucky's whole (rather nice) bicep, rather than just the shirt fabric.

"Yes, Captain," she replied dutifully.

Steve waved vaguely to the crew to signal that they were ready, and bounded off toward the sidelines again. The continuity team reset everyone and filming continued.

Seeing Bucky become his character was truly awe-inspiring. Like watching a painter create emotion on a canvas using a paintbrush and color, or a dancer tell a story with only their body. He was an artist. 

He was great with Peggy. Steve suspected these two would have great chemistry with anyone, as captivating as they both were. But when you got them both together, it was electric. The scene ended with Bucky pressing Peggy against a desk, one of her knees hiked up around his hip, kissing passionately. Steve caught himself idly fanning himself with his crumpled up production schedule.

When the director cut the scene, Bucky glanced up over Peggy's shoulder and locked eyes with Steve. His eyes were dark, hair mussed from Peggy's fingers combing through it, his full lips red from heated kisses. Steve couldn't have moved or looked away had he tried; he was captivated.

It only lasted a moment, before the director came up to give them both his notes and Bucky was engrossed in conversation. Steve crossed his arms over his chest and tried looking aloof.

**

"How are things coming along?" Bucky asked, rocking back on his heels while Steve retrieved his pins and chalk. He was standing on the platform wearing his green army jacket over a Metallica T-shirt.

"Great, actually." He only had a few more pieces for Bucky that he was working on, for scenes later in the production schedule. Steve had been a little worried about enjoying working on films, but that fear had disappeared weeks ago. He still loved the theater, and would go back in a heartbeat if the right opportunity came along, but he was truly happy here. The crew was amazing, dedicated and fun. And the work was fulfilling. They were creating something extraordinary that people were going to love. No detail was too small to be given the utmost attention. 

"Has Tony paid Barton back?" Bucky asked.

Steve smiled as he marked the new hem on Bucky's trousers. 

"Not yet. But I'm sure it'll be over the top and he'll let us all know how brilliant it was. Alright, I'll take the jacket and you can change back into your clothes."

Bucky went behind the screen in the corner of the room to change and set the trousers on the table next to where Steve had the jacket laid out and was removing basting stitches to adjust the fit.

"I thought it fit great," Bucky said, leaning on his elbows on the cutting table across from Steve.

"I just want to raise the shoulder a little. It'll be more in line with the style in '45."

"Such dedication."

"What can I say, I'm a craftsman."

Bucky watched Steve work for a few moments, until Steve could stand it no longer.

"So, Natalia seemed lovely when we met."

"She is lovely. And she said the same thing about you. Well, basically, anyway."

"Oh?" Steve wasn't sure why that surprised him. If Bucky loved her, she must be a good person. But he still couldn't help feeling a little resentment toward her. What kind of person would throw away the chance to be with Bucky? He didn't think much of her judgement, and ok, he was a little bitter about it. He doubted they'd ever meet again, anyway.

"So are you two together again, then?" he blurted before he could think better of it.

Bucky took a breath to answer, but seemed to change his mind. Steve glanced up to see Bucky looking at him strangely, a little hopeful, a little frustrated, but masked it quickly. Instead, he smiled crookedly.

"Jealous?"

Steve didn't feel quite ready to joke about it yet, but if Bucky did, then he supposed that was a good thing.

"What? Of _you_? Please, don't be ridiculous," he said quickly, all in one breath. It sounded terribly feeble. Bucky laughed, and it was so good to hear that Steve couldn't help but smile, even if it was quite telling.

"Make yourself useful and grab me the green thread from the vanity drawer."

"Aye, aye, Captain." 

Steve rolled his eyes at him, making Bucky laugh again as he left for the outer wardrobe room.

Steve felt a lightness he hadn't in weeks, and it left him smiling. Even if Bucky and Natalia were back together, their friendship no longer felt strained. Bucky felt comfortable enough with him to joke about the tension between them. Steve supposed that meant he wanted to laugh it off instead of addressing it, which was also good. It really _was_. 

"Get lost out there?" Steve called, after Bucky had been gone longer than the task warranted. He didn't receive an answer, so Steve went in search of him. He found Bucky standing at the vanity with his back to him, holding something in his hands.

"Bucky?"

Bucky turned, and Steve's heart stopped. In one hand he was holding the coffee sleeve Bucky had given him when he'd first started the job. The one he'd written a congratulatory note on. In the other hand he held the soup lid that he'd brought Steve when he was sick and written a get well note on.

Steve cursed his foolishness. For keeping the trash in the first place, and second for forgetting where he'd put them. But he couldn't bring himself to throw away the reminder of Bucky's thoughtfulness. It warmed him and made him smile every time he reached in that drawer. 

Bucky had that strange look on his face again, but his eyes were wide and...his pupils blown.

"Oh, I...I'm sentimental," Steve said by way of explanation to the silent question, but he was unconvincing. He imagined he looked a little panicked too, which didn't help matters.

Bucky dropped the damning evidence suddenly and surged in, grabbing two handfuls of Steve's shirt and pulling him in for a forceful kiss. Steve's mouth opened in a gasp and Bucky claimed his lower lip immediately. Dazed and so suddenly drunk with lust, Steve's knees nearly gave out. But he responded in kind, as if his body knew it had found its other half, even if Steve's brain couldn't quite catch up. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky to fully participate, earning a wanton groan from the brunette in return.

Steve had never kissed a man before. It was different, having a hard, solid body under his hands and being manhandled a little bit. It made everything go a little hazy around the edges.

Bucky pulled Steve backward and pushed him against the vanity so he could press harder against him. He kicked one of Steve's shoes outward to fit himself between his thighs. The kiss was all tongue and teeth, too hurried and passionate to be careful. Steve gasped again as Bucky ever so slightly rolled his hips and Steve grabbed the sides of his face to take control of the kiss. Bucky seemed to like that; he melted against him, his hands dragging down Steve's sides to hold his hips in a vice grip that would likely leave marks. The idea made an involuntary shiver run down his spine.

Steve knew it would be all too easy to give in. He wanted to so, so badly. His entire body was aching for Bucky's hands. But it would only make things worse in the end.

"Bucky," he gasped, voice rough with want. Bucky seemed to like hearing his name in Steve's voice, too. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses under Steve's ear, trailing along his neck and sucked gently just above his collarbone. Steve's responding moan was absolutely _filthy_ , and it surprised him enough to jolt him out of the other world Bucky had taken him to. 

"Wait, wait."

Bucky looked up at him, nearly beyond comprehension in a fog of lust, the blue-grey color of his eyes all but engulfed with the black of his pupils. 

_I love you._

"I can't."

"I'm sorry," Bucky blurted breathlessly, stepping away so quickly Steve nearly slid off the vanity from where Bucky had him pinned and nearly pushed him up on top of it. "I'm sorry I keep pushing. Sometimes it seems like you might...but I get it, you're not interested. I'm sorry, let's forget it. I'll back off, I hope we can still be--"

"What?" Steve exclaimed, flabbergasted. "Not interested?"

Bucky glanced around, as if to present their current situation as evidence. "You literally just pushed me away. What am I supposed to think?"

"Of _course_ I'm interested Bucky. Fuck. I just, it would never work. I'm a--a long-term kind of guy," he said. Bucky stepped back again, as if he'd just been struck.

"What, and I'm just looking for a one-night stand? That's real nice."

"No, I know you're--this isn't coming out right. I just didn't think you'd want a long-term thing...with me. And you've got whatever it is that you've got with Natalia. I just can't see it ending well for me."

"So you took it upon yourself to decide what I wanted?" Bucky scoffed bitterly. "You know best, don't you?" 

Then he turned and left. Steve was so astonished he could only gape at the empty doorway, feeling as though Bucky had scooped out his heart and taken it with him when he walked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OUCH. I am so sorry, except not really. Reviews make me write faster, friends!!


	7. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys begin to find some clarity.

Steve came home to find Sam angry-cooking. He hadn't done it in a while, and though Steve felt terrible that Sam had a bad day, he always got some really amazing dinners out of it. As Sam told him about the big blowout that had happened at the VA, Steve realized this was a problem that had been building and bothering Sam for weeks, and Steve was just now learning of it. He was a terrible friend.

He felt like a shit for allowing his romantic issues to take center stage in his life. He always thought that people who had such drama in their lives were shallow and vain, and now he was one of them. He apologized incessantly to Sam, who'd taken the brunt of his grousing and lovesick rants. Sam, true to form, shrugged it off. 

"You should become a therapist," Steve said.

"Yeah, I'll start moonlighting as a therapist to my day job as a therapist, then maybe I won't have time for my own problems," Sam replied, good-natured as ever.

Some of Sam's Army buddies came to town that weekend, so they came over to the apartment for a few drinks before all heading out together for some bar hopping. Steve even forgot his troubles for a while, until the only female in the group asked, "Your girlfriend should come out with us, it's a real sausage fest over here. You seeing anybody?"

Instead of being flattered and possibly seeing where things could go (because she was cute, even if Steve hadn't noticed it until then), all it did was bring back the feeling of Bucky's lips against his own, against his neck, Bucky's hips slotted with his, the heat, the  _pull_.

"Sort of," Sam answered at the same time Steve said flatly, "No."

"Sort of," Sam repeated, and they engaged in a brief staring contest before Steve relented.

"It's complicated," he admitted to Carol, who smiled reassuringly and patted his arm. 

They were a fun group, and Steve took advantage of the opportunity to drink too much and sing some karaoke. He became Facebook friends with all of them, had a deep conversation with Scott and won wingman of the year by hooking him up with the bartender. 

**

Filming was ahead of schedule. Steve still worked on set, waiting for a wardrobe malfunction, but luckily no one tore any more seams. Bucky had been studiously avoiding him for a week and a half, until they were forced to interact for a final fitting.

Bucky was polite enough, but it was such a vast disparity from his usual warm demeanor that Steve got the point. It had been sitting like a heavy weight on Steve's shoulders, a constant pain in his gut, and he tried to open the conversation, if only to scrub the wound clean so it could heal.

"Bucky, I'm really sorry about before. I meant it when I said--"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Bucky cut in, shrugging his leather jacket back on, already halfway out the door. "Let's just forget it." He offered a tight smile and a small nod, and disappeared.

Steve leaned back against the vanity, wondering at all of his mistakes that had piled up on top of each other to get him into this mess.

"I just saw Bucky...oh, darling," Peggy cooed from the doorway.

She walked in between his outstretched legs and enveloped him in a comforting embrace. Steve leaned his head onto her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, thankful for the contact. He never was real touchy with his friends, his mom was gone, and it wasn't like he could ask Sam for a hug. Sam would probably not think twice about it, but Steve seemed to have a thing about admitting weakness. He was glad he had a friend who could look at him and see what he needed, without him having to say it out loud. And he really needed some comfort.

Steve was beginning to think he may have done irreversible damage to his future happiness. He'd never been a coward. Never in his life. When someone in his class was being picked on, Steve was the first to intervene, even if he was (and usually he was) even smaller than the kid being picked on. When he knew he was going to get hit for his opinion, it never stopped him from sharing it, if it was something he believed strongly in.

But something about Bucky scared him. Enough to make him clam up about how he really felt. Enough to make him risk what there could be between them for fear of the greatest heartbreak he'd ever know.

But what was the point, since his heart was already breaking as it was? If he was going to get hurt, he might as well get all the good stuff he could before it happened. He was giving up before he even had the chance to feel all that he knew Bucky could make him feel. He was quitting before they even got started. And Steve had never been a quitter, either.

**

It was the first day of spring that was warm enough to sit outside without a jacket. The California sun was pleasantly warm against the lingering chill in the air as Clint, Tony, Thor and Molly, the makeup artist, sat at the picnic table just outside the studio backdoor. Thor and Clint had takeout boxes in front of them, which Thor was tucking into with enthusiasm as he and Molly chatted. Clint was looking sullen, holding his plastic fork in white-knuckled fingers while Tony babbled away happily.

Steve sat next to Clint, setting his ziploc bagged sandwich on the table. Before Steve could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Molly explained it to him, over Tony's constant inane chatter.

"Stark re-wired Clint's hearing aids."

"It plays the Ringling Brothers theme whenever I talk," Clint said, wincing.

"And it plays Welcome to the Jungle when it recognizes my voice," Tony said triumphantly. Clint's scowl deepened.

"How long are you going to let this go on?" Steve asked. Clint's eyes widened, and then his expression sank into utter misery. "Oh no. What does it play when I talk?"

" _God bless America,"_  Tony crooned, purposefully off-key.

"Mr. Stark," Pepper said politely as she crossed the lot, a clipboard in her hands and her ponytail swinging behind her. Tony leapt up, spun around and was striding toward her before she even finished speaking.

"Yes, Ms. Potts, how can I help you?"

Pepper smiled at him warmly as they walked off together and it made Steve feel a little softer toward the man, even though he had just played a cruel (albeit genius, he begrudgingly admitted) prank on his friend. He didn't understand it, from Pepper's perspective at least, but those two were obviously nuts about each other.

"How did he even get a hold of those long enough to do that?" Steve asked Clint, who shuddered and signed quickly,  _Do not open your mouth again_. Steve wasn't fluent in sign language, but Clint was vehement enough that he got the idea.

**

He tried to get Bucky alone so they could talk. Really, he did. He wanted it to seem casual and organic though, he didn't want to summon him with a  _We need to talk_ text message _,_  because no one likes getting that. They needed to have the opportunity to go somewhere private enough so Steve could get told off without witnesses and they needed enough time at the end of the day for Steve to adequately apologize for his stupidity and stubbornness.

But Bucky was always engrossed in his phone or rushing off after shooting. The one time Steve had the opening, Bucky was lingering after talking with Phil about the direction of the final scene. Steve watched him from the other side of the room, feeling like the utmost creeper, as he threw away his water bottle in the bin and strolled off the set, thinking  _go, now, just go do it,_  the entire time. But the other half of his brain kept insisting that it wasn't exactly the right time. The very specific conditions he'd set for the talk weren't met.

So much for not being a coward. 

Peggy texted him almost daily  _Have you done it yet?_  And when she was met with silence:  _Bite the bullet!!!_

They'd talked about it over dinner at a hole-in-the-wall place that served New York style pizza and made Steve feel at home enough to not hold anything back. She got a fuller story than Sam did, even. The way Bucky had kissed him, the way he made Steve feel. The kinds of things Steve didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone else, somehow Peggy drew from him by doing nothing but nodding and placing her hand on his across the table at the exact right times. 

Peggy understood in a way no one else could've. She'd had more than one relationship ruined by too much publicity, too much distance or too many other opportunities. Her advice made his heartbeat quicken in his chest, half excitement and half fear. He felt himself at the edge of something. He couldn't teeter there much longer; he had to fall one way or the other.

"Sure, I've had my share of disasters," she'd said, "but I wouldn't trade them. I earned friends, made memories and _lived_ my life. Those experiences, even the bad ones--  _especially_ the bad ones-- are what make me who I am. Don't be afraid of them. And while I think your heart will be safe with him, from what I can tell, if it does go down in flames, it'll be worth it."

**

Bucky flipped through the Enquirer his publicist always brought over, damn her. He was sure there would be pictures of him and Nat from the club the night before. He'd been intent on drinking away his stupid problems for at least a night, but wound up talking about Steve the whole time anyway. He could tell Nat tuned him out after a few minutes, and to her credit, only muttered, "дура́к" twice, that he could hear.

He'd wished he hadn't left after that kiss (that  _kiss!_ ). He wished he'd stayed and fought with Steve, told him the truth and not been so stubborn that he let his hurt feelings drive him away. It made it exponentially harder to gather up the courage to talk about it again. Not to mention he was horribly embarrassed about throwing a tantrum like a toddler and storming away.

Why did he insist on making everything so hard for himself? He could see, could  _feel_ , how perfect Steve was for him. How much lighter and  _better_  Steve would make him. And he wasn't going fight for it? 

And for the first time, he started to truly believe he wouldn't get another chance. Because on page four of the Enquirer, a full-page grainy cell phone picture showed Steve and Peggy tucked away in a cozy restaurant, holding hands on the tabletop. He felt something sharp tug in his chest, and wondered if that's what it felt like to break your heart.

Maybe it was better this way. He certainly didn't deserve Steve. While he didn't believe Peggy quite did either, he wasn't sure anyone ever could.

Bucky'd had a rocky time of it up until fairly recently. Growing up in foster care, fighting tooth and nail against every closed door in his face to get to where he is today. He had amazing friends that kept him sane, but the glitter and the falseness of this town had threatened to jade him early. But Steve was like the sun after a rough storm, like the clouds clearing and the rain drying from his hair.

He was a Good Person. Maybe even the best.

"Fuck," Bucky growled into his empty apartment, and threw the tabloid across the room with an unsatisfying flutter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short-ish chapter. It felt like the right place to end. That only means the next one will be up quicker.  
> You may notice I have an end in sight for this, in roughly 2 more chapters! We'll see if I stick to it.  
> Let me know what you think :) I love you all for your interest in this.  
> дура́к = idiot


	8. Wrap Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming has finished, and the boys realize the wrap party might be their last chance to clear the air.

Nat was sliding her feet into her ridiculously tall Louboutin heels. It would put her at a height with Bucky, who'd invited her to the wrap party because he was a chicken shit and wanted someone to hide behind.

Rationally he knew Nat well enough to know it wasn't going to work out that way, but the list of people he trusted with himself when he was as fragile as he was now consisted of the woman in front of him and his foster sister Becca, who was in school in New York. His history with Nat had more ups and downs than a roller coaster, but he trusted her implicitly. The intense affair they'd had when they first met fizzled out pretty quickly, but a friendship took its place. It had taken a long time, but Nat knew him inside and out and she never judged, probably because she had just as much shit in her closet as him. An abusive ex-husband in Russia, who Bucky suspected met with an untimely end, was just the tip of it. Being privy to the inner circle of models, celebrities and other public figures meant plenty of secrets and drama.

They'd both seen plenty of other people in the meantime, but every now and then they'd fall back together for a few weeks because it was familiar. But since Steve came into the picture, Bucky hadn't felt that way for her. Nat always seemed to know what he was thinking, and never pressed the issue, which was one of the many reasons why he would always love her.

Filming had wrapped last week, and Pepper had rented a rooftop garden space to celebrate together, before everyone's other duties and projects pulled them away. 

Bucky was actively trying to not talk about Steve and how he would see him tonight, probably dressed up in a suit that Bucky was sure would make him want to shoot himself in the face. The easy access to alcohol was also a little worrisome.

Nat made a disgusted noise as she fastened her earrings and looked at him through her mirror.

"Stop sulking, your face will stick like that."

"What are you, five?" Bucky shot back, without any real heat.

She walked over and put her hands on his lapels.

"If you wanted someone to protect you tonight, you shouldn't have invited me."

Bucky sighed, defeated.

"What do I do?"

"Fucking talk to him, jackass," she said, smacking him lightly on the chest with the backs of both hands.

"You're not helping," Bucky snapped, even though it did help a little bit, to hear her give the order like that. "It'll never work out. This is so fucking stupid." He rubbed at his eyes, already exhausted and the night hadn't even begun.

Now that there was no longer any need for Bucky to be on set, he'd have no reason to see Steve anymore. Steve had clearly been trying to apologize, maybe salvage their friendship, but it was clear to Bucky they couldn't be friends. At least, not right now. Bucky felt raw, exposed and most of all embarrassed from getting the brush off. Maybe after he had time to cool off, he could suck it up enough to carry on a friendship without too much heartache, though somehow he doubted any time or distance would cool him off from Steve. And the prospect of not seeing that grin light up Steve's face for any length of time was infinitely daunting. Bucky's throat was suddenly tight with panic and sorrow. He felt a little bit like he was coming undone.

Nat was gathering her purse and checking her lipstick one last time in the mirror while Bucky stood there, anguished.

"Fuck. I'm in love with him," he said quietly. Nat said nothing, just offered him a small smile and gently ushered him toward the door.

**

Steve pulled his sleeves down and checked his cuff links as he stood by the bar with Clint.

"Dude, stop, you're making me nervous," Clint said, handing him his drink. They stepped aside to let others claim their free alcohol and stood by the railing to survey the party. There were lights strung up above them across the rooftop and copses of tall ferns, garden beds and shrubs that sectioned off the space and made it actually feel private, despite the number of people.

"Sorry, Taylor Swift is here," Steve said. While that was half the reason he was getting twitchy, mostly it was because Bucky hadn't shown up yet.

"What, where?" Clint whipped his head around to search for a blonde head in the crowd. Steve gestured with his drink to where the singer stood with a circle of people.

Steve wasn't sure how so many random people got invited to the wrap party of their movie, but he saw Matt Damon mingling about and Pepper introduced him to _the actual_ Tom fucking Hanks, who was apparently a personal friend of hers. They had a short conversation, but thankfully Tom was called away before Steve could make a fool of himself by speaking too much, and he gulped down the rest of his drink to steady his nerves. 

"I see you're fitting in well with the silver screen crowd," Tony said from behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. He was wearing gold sunglasses with his tux and was 100% unapologetic about it.

"Not sure I'd go that far."

"Nonsense. You're charming, you're handsome, if you were a little bit smarter I might be jealous."

Steve sighed.

"Oh look, Barnes finally showed up," Tony said, gesturing to where Bucky was ushering Natalia Romanova toward the rest of their crew, lounging around an artfully arranged fire at the back of the party. She looked stunning as ever in a black and gold dress, her short red hair bouncing in soft curls. Bucky leaned forward and said something into the nape of her neck that made her smile. Steve swallowed hard and tried thinking up an offhanded comment, but came up blank. Bucky was wearing a dark navy suit with a skinny black tie, his hair coiffed like they'd done it for his character. He must've grown fond of the style after living in it for six months.

"If you want my advice--"

"I don't."

"--he's one of the good ones." Steve squinted at him, but Tony walked away, sipping his drink.

Steve took refuge with Peggy for a while. He didn't even have to say anything as he came up to her, she just wrapped her arm around his, including him in her conversation with the lead singer of some band he'd never heard of. After a few minutes, he caught a glimpse of Natalia's curly red hair over the guy's shoulder as she meandered through the crowd, stopping here and there to casually say hello to bigger stars than Steve could ever hope to even meet, let alone befriend. Steve motioned to Peggy that he was going to grab her another drink and headed toward the bar. He was in no rush to get the bartender's attention, and let a few people cut in and get their drinks first.

Someone came up and stood next to him, setting a glass on the bar and lifting a finger toward the bartender. A moment later she had a full glass in front of her again. Steve glanced over, mildly impressed, and was somehow not surprised to see it was Natalia Romanova.

"Here you are. You saw me and took off running. One might take offense," she said. How the hell had she noticed--? It took Steve a moment to reply. The timbre of her voice surprised him. He couldn't remember having heard her speak before. When they'd met at the SAGs, she hadn't said a word to him. Her Russian accent was barely noticeable, just a slight softening of her g's that gave it away.

"You were looking for me?" Steve asked, surprised.

"I want to talk to you."

Her tone was light, but it still somehow sounded foreboding. Steve cleared his throat and made an aborted move to fiddle with his cuff links.

"About what?"

She fixed her eyes on him and Steve felt suddenly transparent. Natalia cut straight to the point.

"What was between James and I, it’s been over for a long time."

Steve thought back to the times he'd seen them together, the way Bucky had come to explain the pictures in the tabloids. Everyone assumed he and Peggy were dating; the same mistake could've bee made about Bucky and Natalia. Bucky never did really say they were together, but he never said they weren't either.

"Why didn't he just tell me?"

"You want an answer other than he's an idiot? Probably because he wanted to see if you were serious about him. Or maybe he was scared you might be. James has a bad habit of denying himself nice things."

Her eyes tracked over his face in a way that made Steve think she was deciding if she should go on. It only took her a moment.

"You know what I know more about now than I ever wanted to? Patternmaking," she answered, before Steve could even think about replying. "Because he can’t shut up about you. How talented you are, and smart and fun." She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink. "Juvenile."

"I--wh--"

"It's going to be hard, but he'll make it work. It's nauseating how he adores you." She looked mildly amused at Steve's gaping fish impression. "He said you were smart; you really didn’t see it?"

Steve felt wildly uncomfortable having such a frank conversation with someone he'd met only once before, but it was refreshing at the same time. He respected the hell out of her for it. "I--I felt it, but I didn’t really think he'd…"

"What, that he'd fight for you? Hmm, humble, too," she said with a smirk. "Bucky's always been rather guarded with his affection. But you?" She tapped him on the chest lightly with one manicured fingertip. "You have it completely." She seemed to have made up her mind about him. She was smiling now, and it made the very air around her lighter. Her gaze focused somewhere beyond his shoulder and she chuckled. Steve glanced back to see Bucky near a group of potted plants with Dugan, but he wasn't listening to what the man was saying. Bucky's eyes were focused on the two of them, comically wide with terror written on his face.

"Would you excuse me?" he asked politely, over the pounding sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Natalia tilted her glass to say _by all means_. Steve stepped away, but hesitated, then turned back. "Natalia," he began.

"Nat," she corrected and Steve felt a surge of affection for her.

"Nat. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she said, and then tacked on, "Captain."

He shot her a surprised smile as she turned away, laughter dancing in her eyes.

**

Oh god, he was coming over.

Dugan rolled his eyes, having noticed that Bucky had completely stopped listening about two minutes ago, and left the conversation. He gave Steve a friendly clap on the shoulder as he approached.

"Hey," Steve said casually, with a self-deprecating smile that looked like an apology.

Bucky desperately wanted to know what the fuck Nat had been telling him, but was a little scared to ask. So he settled for, "Hi."

"I just met Tom Hanks."

Bucky was so high strung and grateful for the ice breaker that his laughter took on a hysterical edge. But Steve just laughed too, looking relieved.

"What does one talk about with Tom Hanks, anyway?" Bucky asked.

"Y'know, I honestly couldn't even tell you. I think we talked about the crazy-looking plant in the corner that nearly took my eye out, but the whole time I just kept thinking "How can I get Tom Hanks to take a selfie with me?""

Bucky laughed again, a little more relaxed. His whole body felt warm with relief after being tense for the last few weeks. And the way Steve was looking at him...he felt a flicker of hope that chased away all the fear and panic that had threatened to consume him just a few hours ago.

"So, how about this weekend you let me take you out?" Steve asked, with that warm, friendly smile Bucky loved.

And just like that, the knot of anxiety in Bucky's stomach dissipated entirely. That was all it took. Bucky would've been pissed at himself for waiting so long, were he not so euphoric.

"You askin' me on a date, Rogers?"

"Yeah, I am," he said, quirking a challenging brow. "How about it?" Steve took a half step into Bucky's space, not close enough to be indecent, but close enough that Bucky could study the beautiful blue of his eyes. 

"The hell did she say to you?" Bucky wondered aloud, though he didn't really care anymore. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Steve decide to take a chance on him, and he would be paying her back in Louboutin and Jimmy Choos from here until kingdom come.

"Basically she told me to get my head out of my ass, though in not so many words."

Bucky chuckled. "Sounds like something she said to me earlier today."

"So, that date?" Steve prompted, reaching out to trace his fingertips along the notch in Bucky's jacket collar. Bucky's breath hitched.

"Buddy, I'm gonna date you so hard."

Steve clapped his hand over his heart as he laughed openly, unreservedly. Bucky was sure his face would be sore tomorrow from all the grinning he was doing, but he couldn't stop, even as he and Steve joined the rest of their crew. For the first time in a long time, he saw the future stretching out before him and was excited to meet it, rather than being daunted or bored by the vastness of it. If getting to go on a date with Steve made his heart thump so wildly behind his chest, he longed to know what else Steve could make him feel. He reached out to anchor himself, keep himself from floating away by toying with the cufflinks on Steve's sleeve, or pretending to straighten his tie.

Steve shot him a happy, knowing smirk that Bucky wouldn't mind getting to know better.

Natalia rejoined them, perching herself between Steve and Clint. Bucky tried glaring at her, but it was hardly convincing, given his goofy grin still hadn't worn off. Clint was attempting not to stare at her and failing. 

"Nat, have you met Clint? He's the sound tech," Bucky said. Clint looked panicked for a moment, before covering with his casual demeanor. Bucky was satisfied when Natalia gave him a very obvious once over and a "Hm," before turning back to her phone and Clint looked very much like he'd just fallen in love.

Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket and he glanced down to check it. It was an email from his publicist, with an itinerary for his media tour. Which started next week.

"Fuck," Bucky grumbled, shoving his phone back in his pocket. Half of his brain had been scheming on how to get Steve to hole up in his apartment with him for the next two weeks and only leave the bed for food and water, but now that would have to wait. Steve glanced back at him with an _Is everything okay?_ expression. Bucky nodded and shuffled a little closer so their thighs just barely brushed, just to have a point of contact again. 

Whatever came at them now, it didn't matter. Bucky could face it. Steve wanted him, at least for now, and it made Bucky feel like he could take on the whole world if he needed to. He was going to fight for this. Steve was going to have a helluva time getting rid of him.

**

When Tony started demonstrating his latest holographic prototype, Bucky caught Steve's eye and nodded toward the exit. Before waiting for a confirmation, he started making his way through the crowd.

Steve thought his heart was trying to jump out of his mouth with the way it was pounding. He must've had an out of body experience, coming up with the balls to ask Bucky out. After all the grief Steve had caused him, he wouldn't have been surprised if Bucky had said no, no matter how much Nat said he liked him. The relief that Bucky hadn't given up on him, that he still had a chance, had him practically vibrating out of his skin with nerves and excitement, torn between wanting to get Bucky alone to get more of that mouth he'd been dreaming about for six months, and running for the hills. For all his confidence and feigned nonchalance, he had never been with a man before, and the prospect of venturing into that unknown territory made him sweat. He had a theoretical idea of what to do, he'd watched enough porn to know, but actually getting there--and with _Bucky_ \--was something else entirely. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He'd just asked Bucky on a date, after all.

Steve got through to the lobby just as the elevator doors were opening and Bucky shot him a look that screamed _I'm going to fuck you in this elevator_ as he strolled aboard, hands in his pockets. Maybe he wasn't getting ahead of himself after all. Steve swallowed hard and hustled in after him. Bucky had turned around and caught him by the collar, crowding him up against the wall as the doors slid closed.

He saw fireworks behind his eyelids as Bucky pushed up into a kiss. Bucky was framing his face, using his grip on him to tip Steve's lips the way he wanted them. Steve held tight to Bucky's hips, keeping them pressed together, fingers flexing with urgency and impatience for more. Bucky had only just managed to suck at Steve's tongue for a moment, drawing out a throaty moan from Steve as he clutched him tighter, when the doors pinged open. Thankfully there was no one there waiting for it. Steve made an unhappy noise of protest as Bucky unglued himself from where he was plastered up against him. Bucky's pupils were blown wide with lust, as Steve was sure his were too, his lips plump and pink from Steve's kisses. Bucky was wearing a very self-satisfied smirk as he strolled off the elevator, so Steve kicked the back of his heel and laughed when he flailed.

They found a 24-hour diner to look entirely overdressed in. They were practically the only ones in the place, save for some drunk kids in the opposite corner. The hors d'eouvres at the party hadn't really done it for either of them, and they ordered burgers topped with the most ridiculous combinations they could manage.

As they waited for Bucky's fried egg/hash brown/jalapeno cream cheese burger and Steve's PB&J burger, Bucky tucked his feet between Steve's ankles and told him about his upcoming media tour.

"If that changes things for you, I'd understand, but I really, really hope it doesn't."

Steve chewed his lower lip a moment. The prospect of not seeing Bucky for over a month and not getting his hands on him like he wanted was shitty, but it didn't matter in the long run. He'd waited long enough, he could wait a little longer. He opened his mouth to say so, but Bucky cut him off in a panic.

"Why don't you come with me?" he asked.

Steve huffed a laugh, feeling the blush creep up his face. The offer was appealing, the intention behind it even more so. "I'm contracted at the studio for another six months, at least. Pepper's already given me the script for the next movie. They start pre-pro in three weeks."

"Right, that was a bad idea, sorry."

"It doesn't change anything for me," Steve said quickly. "I'll wait."

Bucky looked at him like he wanted to swipe the cutlery and coffee cups from the table and lay Steve out right there. Steve could honestly say he wouldn't have minded.

"As long as you don't go running off with the star of your next film," Bucky warned, only half joking.

"You don't think I'm fickle, do you?" Steve teased.

"Nah, not really."

"This is good, I think," Steve said haltingly, toying with his napkin. "If you were staying I might be tempted to lock you in my bedroom for the next couple weeks."

"You been readin' my mind," Bucky purred, tilting his foot to brush against Steve's calf. Steve grinned, knowing Bucky was trying to seduce him into not saying what he was going to say next. He shook his head fondly.

"I wanna take this slow, Buck. Do it right."

Bucky threw his hands up and slumped back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we went any slower we'd be goin' backward," he grumbled.

Steve was coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't actually having an aneurism, or some sort of coma-dream. Bucky really was into him. It sent heat blooming low in his belly, spiraling up his spine. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

"Don'tcha think it'll be worth it?" he said, and watched Bucky's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, his eyes flicking down to Steve's mouth. 

The waitress materialized at their table with two heaping plates of food. Steve smiled up at her with a _Thank you ma'am_ that made Bucky roll his eyes.

Steve was ravenous and cleaned his plate with gusto as he and Bucky talked. They split and shared their burgers, because they were delicious and each insisted the other try it. Steve was relieved to find their friendship not only undamaged, but better than before. Being honest about what was between them freed them up to be themselves. Steve felt free enough and confident enough to make stupid jokes and innuendos, smirking when he was finally able to surprise Bucky.

Bucky halfheartedly tried to get Steve to come home with him when they parted ways outside the diner. Steve was kind of glad he was going one way and Bucky was going the other, or else they'd have shared the cab and Bucky would've used the time to convince him that going slow was a terrible idea. It wouldn't have taken much.

"I have a couple free days before I have to leave. They're all yours if you want 'em."

"Yeah, I want 'em," Steve replied. Bucky's gaze drifted down to his mouth and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip like he was dying of thirst and Steve was a tall glass of water. Steve didn't think he'd ever tire of that, or the thrill it shot through him.

Bucky pressed in and kissed him lightly, sliding his fingers around Steve's waist, under his suit jacket to trail over the muscles in his back. He wanted Bucky's hands on his skin so bad he could practically taste it, but Bucky eased back before Steve could get away with himself. For all his eagerness, Bucky respected his wish to take it slow. 

"Goodnight," Steve murmured against Bucky's lips, trailing fingertips over his jaw and neck, pushing back into his hair like he'd always wanted to do.

"Goodnight," Bucky replied just as languidly, then shoved Steve toward the waiting cab.

**

 _Good night_.

It sure fucking was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're as satisfied as I was that these two idiots finally got it worked out. Now Bucky's going away on a trip that will test their brand new relationship!


	9. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky leaves and comes home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws smut at you*

Steve had texted Peggy as soon as he got in the cab, but she didn't reply until the next morning. His phone buzzing woke him at 8, and even though he'd only fallen asleep a few hours ago, wired as he was, he felt perfectly refreshed. 

He didn't wind up getting to see Bucky as much as he wanted before he left the next Saturday. Bucky was negotiating a contract for another film, and ended up having to be in meetings instead of with Steve as he'd suggested. But they texted back and forth practically all day. Bucky shared his thoughts about the film, the character, and his hopes for getting the contract hammered out agreeably. Steve was reading through his next script too. He discovered he'd be dressing Ryan Reynolds and several other big names, and teased Bucky relentlessly about it, sending him images he googled of Reynolds shirtless.

Steve finally got to see him the morning he was to fly out. Bucky made him promise to block out his entire morning and afternoon and see him off at the airport.

It took all of Steve's willpower not to just walk directly into a kiss when he met Bucky for breakfast. He was gratified to find it looked just as hard on Bucky. He couldn't resist a little contact though, and stepped close enough that their chests touched. He grazed his cheek along Bucky's, enjoying the scratch of his day-old beard, and loosely linked their fingers where they rested at his sides.

"I missed you," he said against Bucky's ear, then drew away quickly. It was far too early in the day to be fighting off a boner.

"You saw me six days ago," Bucky pointed out as they sat, but Steve didn't miss the faint flush of pleasure on his cheeks.

"Entirely too long."

"Well buddy the next four weeks are gonna be really hard on you then."

"Yeah they are," he said honestly. The simple, heartfelt confession made Bucky duck his head, but Steve could still see him grinning. "Why don't you just not go?" he suggested playfully.

"Why don't you come with me?" Bucky shot back. "Quit Shield and be a kept man."

They talked over breakfast and then wandered around a bit, stopping for coffee at a small second-hand bookstore and perused the shelves for a while. Bucky was giving him side-long looks that Steve was coming to understand meant he was going to get ravaged. Sure enough, Bucky yanked on the back of his belt to pull him into a secluded corner and pressed him against a bookshelf.

"God, I'm going to miss you so much," he breathed against Steve's neck, where he licked and nibbled at his earlobe.

"Ah," was all Steve could say in return. When Bucky's hand drifted down to graze against the growing bulge in his pants, Steve's hips jerked up of their own accord.

"Whoa," Steve said, shocked back into reality. "Save something for later," he said breathlessly. Bucky's dark chuckle made Steve shiver, but he obeyed, stepping back to retrieve his coffee cup from the shelf.

He would've been self-conscious that he was clearly eager, but Bucky was beaming happily.

"There'll be plenty for later," he said.

They stopped for lunch on the way to the airport, where the young man and woman sitting at the next table were trying to discreetly take pictures of them. The man was pretending to take pictures of the woman, but clearly getting Bucky over her shoulder. Bucky made a stupid face at them and the man put his phone away quickly. He came over to their table after they'd paid and apologetically asked for a picture. Bucky graciously agreed and Steve snapped a shot with the guy's phone of Bucky between the two of them, his arms wrapped around their shoulders. The woman looked like she might pass out at any moment.

Steve poked Bucky in the ribs as they left the diner.

"Big shot."

"Shut it," he warned playfully.

"Do you ever get tired of that?" Steve asked, when they were on the road heading for the airport. It was a silly question, and he already sort of knew the answer, but it was a good opening into the conversation.

Bucky sighed. "Oh yeah. Especially when I'm tired and trying to get somewhere. But I don't want to disappoint anyone or give them a nasty story to tell about me."

"Once this movie comes out, you're gonna have an even harder time."

"I know," he said, "but in the end, I get to do what I love." He shrugged. "It's worth it."

Steve hoped he would still be saying that when he couldn't walk out his front door without being splashed on the front pages at the grocery store checkout.

He couldn't help but think of all the women (and men) who would be dying to meet him, to brush up against his fame, get whatever they could from him. Would the temptation be too much for Bucky to resist? What about after he'd had a couple drinks? Steve couldn't expect him to go on this media tour and stay holed up in his hotel room between press appearances. He was going to go out and have fun with his publicist and the costars that were coming with him.

"Hey," Bucky said, reaching across to grab Steve's hand from his thigh and hold it on the center console. Steve shot him a small smile and tried to look like he wasn't having a minor breakdown. "I can hear the gears grinding over there. Talk to me."

Steve opened his mouth to brush it off, but thought better of it. That was what had caused them so much grief in the first place. Steve liked to think he was a smart guy, he learned from that mistake.

"I'm gonna have a hard time keeping you," Steve said with a half-hearted chuckle, trying to keep his voice light.

"No," Bucky said, squeezing his hand. "You're not. Tell you what you're gonna have a hard time doing is getting rid of me. You're gonna get used to me being gone and realize your life is so much less complicated without me, but I'm comin' back for you, buddy."

Steve tried not to sound too eager, but was sure he failed. "Good."

Steve walked with him up to the security checkpoint, where Bucky set his luggage down and pulled Steve into a tight hug that felt both thrilling and comfortable at once.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Bucky said when he pulled away.

"How could I? You're taking all the stupid with you," Steve shot back.

Bucky walked backward a few steps, as if he couldn't bear to lose sight of him, until he nearly bumped into another harried traveler. Bucky made an _oops_ face at Steve before finally turning away. 

**

Peggy practically bounced into wardrobe later that afternoon and flung herself into Steve's arms. He spun her around once before setting her down and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Darling, I'm so happy for you," she gushed, squishing his cheeks between her hands. He made a fish face at her for a moment until she let him go with a laugh.

Steve invited her over for dinner that night, and purposely did not tell Sam about it until he opened the door and saw her standing there.

"You must be Sam," Peggy said, by way of greeting, holding out a bottle of wine.

"Ms. Carter," he said, taking the bottle and stepping aside to usher her in. "It's so great to finally meet you."

Steve was a little disappointed that he couldn't shake Sam's unflappable geniality and was also possibly a little offended on Peggy's behalf that he wasn't in awe of her. Sam mugged at Steve over Peggy's head and made a show of very calmly taking her coat. Steve just rolled his eyes and leaned down to allow Peggy to kiss his cheek.

Sam and Peggy got along so well she got his phone number at the end of the night with the promise to meet up for lunch sometime. Steve might have been jealous, but for picking up his phone for the first time since Peggy arrived and finding 5 text messages from Bucky.

**Landed in Lisbon**

**Portugal is crazy beautiful**

With this he included a selfie in front of an old church with intricate architecture. He was wearing a grey tweed coat with a navy cap and making a stupid face.

**Ever been?**

**Oh no you're ignoring me**

**You haven't forgotten me already have you?**

Steve laughed to himself and flopped down on his bed to reply. 

He hardly had a chance to miss Bucky, they were texting constantly. Bucky sent him pictures of the attractions in Portugal, England and France as he went. He took selfies making funny faces in random places and sent them via Snapchat with captions like "it's always fucking raining" from England and "daaaaamn France" with a bicyclist in a speedo bearing the French flag in the background.

There wasn't much interesting that Steve could send him back, so he took some selfies with Dum-E and documented Fury's outfits daily, which ranged from matching plaid pants and vest, to a particularly terrifying all-black ensemble, rounded out by a leather duster.  

 **NAT JUST ASKED FOR YOUR NUMBER** , Bucky texted him one night, about two weeks into his trip.

_**What for?** _

**Fuck if i know. be on guard**

Steve wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

He spent a few days coming up with worst case scenarios, which included him being strangled and dumped into the ocean or waking up naked in the middle of the desert. It ended up being much tamer than that. She texted him to ask if he was at the studio on afternoon, and nothing else after Steve said yes.

"Steve," Nat said as she strolled into the wardrobe room an hour later, casually as if they were pals and she were picking up the thread of an earlier conversation. "I need you to make me a dress."

Steve looked around, to make sure there weren't any other Steves in the room she could possibly be addressing.

"I'm not a couturier."

"And thank god. I want one like Peggy's red one from the film, but not so," she made a flapping gesture with her hands that somehow Steve understood.

"What's this for?" Steve asked, designs already dancing in his head as he eyed her curves. Anything he put on her would be stunning. It made his fingers itch for a pencil.

"Nothing, really. Parties, events," she said dismissively, walking up and examining Steve's design board, where he'd been working on costumes for the next film. There wasn't as much handwork to do, as it was a modern setting, but there were plenty of alterations.

"You know I have a job, right?" he asked seriously, but to his surprise Nat smiled at him.

She talked him up so shamelessly when she wore the finished dress that he started getting calls and visits from all manner of starlets, celebrities and singers.

**

Sam had gotten a promotion, and talked to Steve about getting his own place. He was apologetic, since the arrangement had worked out so well for both of them, but Steve knew this was only going to be temporary. They were bound to grow up eventually. He was shopping around for a smaller place nearer to the studio, and sending Bucky pictures as he went. 

 **Nice light. good for** **drawing** ,Bucky replied to a picture of the living room.

The realtor had to repeat herself to catch his attention and show him the kitchen. He snapped a shot and texted it to Bucky. The reply came not a minute later.

**Sturdy counters. good for fucking**

Steve nearly choked. He could just picture Bucky's shitty grin.

_**Ohmygod. i'm signing the papers rIGHT NOW** _

**lol send me a picture of your blush**

Steve sent a picture of himself with his middle finger raised in front of his face, but you could definitely still see the pink in his cheeks.

Bucky sent back a picture of himself with that exact shitty grin Steve was imagining, but better because he was lying on his belly shirtless on a hotel bed, the white sheets rumpled around his arms.

Steve signed the lease for the apartment within the hour.

**

They talked on the phone every couple of days just to chit chat and catch each other up on the goings on. They even Facetimed once or twice, but Bucky spent so much time trying to get Steve to take his clothes off they didn't end up talking about much else. 

Bucky's return was within sight when he sent Steve a picture of him out at a bar with one of his co-stars and three other people Steve didn't recognize. Steve smiled fondly, zooming in to the happy lines wrinkling the corners of Bucky's eyes. He was desperately jealous of all the people in the picture. He craved Bucky's presence and attention like a drug. It made him feel a little crazy, a little unlike himself, but the burning in his blood was difficult to control. 

The next day he had lunch with Sam, who was acting cagey.

"Hear from Bucky lately?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah," Steve replied casually. Sam didn't need to know they texted constantly. "Why?"

Sam pulled up a news article on his phone and set it on the table facing Steve. It showed a picture from the night before, clearly taken at the same time as the one Bucky had sent him, but the angle was a little different, like it was from someone else's phone. It was cropped and Photoshopped to hell, making it look like Bucky was there only with the woman who was next to him at the time.

Steve laughed and Sam looked a little nervous. Steve shook his head.

"Thanks, man, but don't worry about it."

Bucky called him that afternoon with the same concern and sounded relieved when Steve wasn't upset.

"You don't think I'd believe anything on TMZ do you?" He wasn't sure if he should be flattered that Bucky was so worried or offended.

"I should hope not, but sometimes it's enough to plant a seed."

"Nah, believe it or not I trust you."

Bucky paused. "Good, you should," he said quietly, and Steve knew his faith was justified.

**

He helped Sam move into his new place across town and stayed in the sparse apartment until his moving day the next weekend. It was strange and lonely, living in a space so empty. He missed Bucky the most, then. It wouldn't have mattered if there hadn't even been the stacks of boxes and miscellaneous junk lying around; Bucky filled up whatever room he was in, made it warm, made it home.

**

Bucky's flight got in around 1 A.M. on a Saturday, and Steve woke at 6 A.M. with four text messages from him, letting him know he'd landed safely, was back home and couldn't wait to see him, although the specific words he used made Steve's blood burn. Steve offered to make him a late lunch, since Bucky was exhausted from the flight and slept well into the afternoon. He showed up at Steve's new place, hair disheveled with a jean jacket over a grey hoodie and T-shirt. He looked so good Steve could only shake his head in disbelief. 

Bucky was grinning. "You gonna ask me in or just stare at me all afternoon?"

"How about if I do both?" Steve grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him in. As soon as he had the door closed behind him, he pressed Bucky against it for a proper kiss.

"Didn't miss me, didja?" Bucky panted when Steve realized he had to stop at some point and backed off. He just grinned and led Bucky out to the kitchen, where coffee was percolating and bacon was frying.

"I like the place," Bucky said, craning his neck around and peeking around the corner into the living room.

"I'll give you a tour once these are done," Steve jabbed toward the frying pan with his tongs.

Bucky smacked his hand over the granite countertop and gave it an appraising look, before sliding his gaze sideways to Steve with a grin that told Steve exactly what was coming next.

"Sturdy, just like I thought. Care to test them out, Rogers? Christen the place?" Bucky wagged his eyebrows and sidled up next to the stove, trailing his fingertip down the side of Steve's abdomen to cup his ass. 

"Not before lunch," he managed to say, without sounding too breathless.

Bucky turned out to be pretty useful around the apartment. He dried and put away dishes and helped Steve hang a couple of shelves. Despite keeping in such close contact while Bucky was gone, the conversation flowed easily. Bucky filled him in on little details he'd forgotten to share over the phone and retold some stories he'd forgotten he'd already shared. But they were better in person, with Bucky's wildly animated storytelling.

It was suddenly half past five and getting dark outside and Steve realized they'd spent half the day together just hanging out. He popped the top off a couple beers, handed one to Bucky and started searching for pizza to order on his phone.

"Hawaiian or Meat Lovers?" he asked absentmindedly, leaning his hip against the counter as Bucky hopped up on it, dangling his legs.

"Both."

"Both it is." In a few more clicks the order went through and Steve looked up to find Bucky watching him intensely. 

"Speaking of meat lovers," he murmured in that low voice that shot straight to Steve's cock. He'd used that voice liberally when he was away, possibly knowing that the effect was even greater over the phone. While Steve had somehow managed to resist it while they were actually on the phone, he'd taken himself in hand often enough immediately after hanging up, replaying that voice in his head. 

Now he had the man himself in front of him, up on his sturdy counters and reaching for him. Steve let Bucky move him in between his thighs and kiss him.

Steve slowly pulled the zipper on his hoodie down and pushed it from his arms. Bucky let go of Steve's shoulders long enough to yank it off and toss it behind him before he was scratching his fingernails through Steve's short hair again. He could feel Bucky's hardness at his stomach, so he grabbed two handfuls of his ass and pulled him off the counter so he was leaning his lower back against it. He trailed kisses down Bucky's neck before dropping to his knees in front of him and pushing up the hem of his shirt so he could get his mouth on his abs. 

While Bucky was distracted, head tipped back--Steve couldn't resist peeking up--Steve popped the buttons on his fly and pulled his pants and boxers down in one go.

Bucky liked making noise, little moans and gasps into Steve's mouth as they kissed, and he made a choked sound of encouragement at the back of his throat now as his erection bobbed free. Steve intended to draw this out, and licked at the underside of the head of his cock. But then Bucky trembled, and Steve sucked him down as far as he could, palming his ass with one hand and dipping his fingertips into his crack. He was sure his technique was sloppy, but he tried making up for it with enthusiasm.

It was his first time getting acquainted with another man like this. He found he liked the weight on his tongue, the slightly salty taste of precome, but especially the way Bucky gasped and trembled under his attentions. Bucky's hands were hovering around Steve's head and shoulders, fingertips trailing over his jaw and cheek to feel himself in Steve's mouth. Steve peeked up through his eyelashes to see Bucky watching him, mouth slightly open, panting. He ran his thumb over the corner of Steve's mouth, where it was stretched around his cock.

Suddenly Bucky's hands firmed on Steve's shoulders and tapped quickly, pushing him away.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, slightly worried and more than a little self-conscious as he wiped spit and precome from his chin with the back of his hand. He'd seemed to be enjoying it.

Bucky just huffed. "M'gonna come."

"Oh," Steve said, shooting him a wicked grin before diving back in with fervor. It was only a matter of seconds before Bucky was tensing, gently taking hold of Steve's neck in the palm of his hand and coming in the back of his throat with a low groan.

Steve swallowed it down and licked Bucky's softening cock clean before looking up. Bucky was watching him with wonder, looking boneless and absolutely _wrecked_. Steve was so happy and proud that he actually giggled, which made Bucky squint at him. 

"Just you wait," Bucky promised in a sleepy sex voice that made Steve hyper-aware of how painfully hard he was in his pants. Bucky dragged him up by the arms. "Wait until I'm through with you," he murmured, licking into his mouth like he was trying to taste himself. He pulled Steve toward the living room, kicking off his shoes and pants as he went. Steve tugged at the hem of his shirt and he whipped that off too, leaving him totally, gloriously naked, while Steve was still fully dressed. He pushed Steve down on the couch and knelt between his spread knees, unzipping his pants. Steve lifted his hips helpfully to allow Bucky to pull his pants and boxers just far enough below his ass to free his dick.

The noise Steve made when Bucky swallowed down his dick was wanton and completely shameless. Since Steve enjoyed hearing Bucky, knowing he was enjoying what he was doing, he tried to return the favor, though he'd never been very vocal in bed. His hands were resting beside his thighs, not quite sure what to do with them, until Bucky grabbed one and placed it on the back of his head. 

" _Jesus Christ_ ," Steve muttered, tightening his fist in Bucky's hair. It was just long enough on top for him to get a handful, and Bucky hummed in appreciation. The vibrations around his dick robbed him of breath. He came with a growl embarrassingly quickly, but Bucky just grinned up at him with glassy eyes, licking his lips. Steve was a little shell-shocked and felt like he might melt into the couch cushions when the doorbell rang. 

Their eyes widened in tandem as they stared at each other before Bucky started laughing.

"Pizza," he said, scurrying into the kitchen where he wouldn't be seen while Steve buttoned his pants and paid the delivery guy. Bucky was dressed and leaning his hip against the stove, smiling, by the time he set the pizza on the kitchen counter. Steve dragged him in for a slow kiss before Bucky pushed him away.

"Alright, man, I'm starving."

"Yeah, sucking cock is hungry work," Steve quipped.

Bucky sputtered a laugh around a mouthful of hot cheese and pepperoni and Steve laughed harder than the joke warranted, giddy with happiness.

**

Unfortunately Steve was becoming familiar with seeing his picture online and even in the glossy pages of People. Sam particularly enjoyed sending him links to stories and the idiotic comments on said stories. It seemed in general, everyone thought he was a sexy slut, cheating on Peggy and breaking up her friendship with Bucky, since he was seen with both of them quite a lot. 

They managed to get quotes from some of the actresses he'd been dressing on the side.

"Steve's such a flirt," Jen Lawrence said. While it was true he flirted with her because she was a flirt herself, they both knew it was harmless, and he figured they must've either taken her quote out of context or not let her in on the type of article they were writing, since she was a nice kid and they got along.

"You give people too much credit," Bucky told him, from where he was lounging on the wardrobe couch, watching Steve work.

"I don't think you give them enough," Steve said challengingly.

They agreed to disagree.

Bucky came home with him that night, having been promised a meat lover's pizza, which had become their code for fooling around. Bucky was rushing toward the elevator in Steve's building with single-minded purpose, towing Steve behind him by their linked fingers. Steve felt warm all over. Bucky had a way of making him feel confident in a way he hadn't before, like he was some delicious candy Bucky never expected to taste, and now couldn't get enough of.

"In a hurry?" Steve asked innocently, as Bucky jabbed at the button. "You must really be hungry for some pizza." Bucky just herded Steve into the elevator with an impatient huff.

He crowded Steve up against the wall as the doors slid closed.

"If you don't fuck me right now I might die," he gushed breathlessly.

"So dramatic," Steve murmured, reaching up to cup Bucky's face in his right hand, resting his left on Bucky's hip to anchor them together.

Steve felt like he was the one who might die from loving this idiot. But he'd die a happy man, he thought, as he dipped his head and brushed their lips together, purposefully light. Bucky made a dissatisfied noise and yanked him down to crush their mouths together. 

By the time they made it to Steve's door and he fumbled the key in the lock, Steve's heart was hammering behind his ribs. It felt different this time, more heated and urgent. They hadn't fucked, just fooled around a few times. Bucky knew he'd never been with a man before and seemed to understand Steve had to work himself up to it. When he'd first realized he was attracted to men in that way, he tested it out with a dildo, just to make sure. It was safe to say he would enjoy sex; he could hardly keep his fingers out of his ass after that, but to him it still felt like a big step. He wasn't a traditionalist by any means, obviously, but trusting another person with his body like that wasn't nothing.

"What do you want?" Bucky whispered against his lips as they lingered in the front hallway, kissing and groping and grinding.

"I don't care. Everything, anything, just take your goddamn clothes off," Steve blurted, making Bucky laugh. Steve had never really associated laughter and sex in a good way; it had always been at least a little tender and solemn with his past girlfriends. But with Bucky, it seemed they were always laughing together, whether they were fooling around or not.

Bucky obliged him, shucking off his shirt before working on Steve's as he walked backward toward the bedroom, stringing Steve along. Once they were both free of their jeans and underwear, he swung Steve around and pushed him down to sit on the bed and climbed into his lap. With his thighs braced on either side of Steve's, Bucky pressed close and rolled his hips, rubbing both their dicks together and against Steve's abdomen. Bucky swallowed Steve's moan and did it again. 

Steve trailed his hands over the defined muscles in Bucky's back, roaming lower to cup his ass and pull them together harder. He ghosted his fingertips over Bucky's hole, earning him a nip on the jaw and a groan as Bucky tried to push back into his hand. But that put too much space between their bodies, so Steve yanked him close again.

When he thought he might burst, Steve lifted Bucky up under his thighs and spun them around, dumping him on his back kiddy corner in the middle of the bed. Steve expected Bucky to laugh, but his eyes were dark with lust, the apples of his cheeks shading a pretty pink. He let his legs fall open and trailed one hand down to cup his balls while the other stroked over his hole.

"Fuck," Steve muttered, his heart thumping so wildly in his chest he was surprised he could even speak.

"Lube," Bucky prompted.

"Oh, right," Steve said, eyes wide, which did earn him a snort. He rummaged through the nightstand and handed Bucky the bottle.

Bucky popped the cap and slicked up his fingers, then tossed the bottle aside without capping it. Steve couldn't be bothered to care. He actually hoped they'd be making an even bigger mess of his bed tonight.

Steve knelt between Bucky's thighs, watching as he worked himself open with one finger, then two. Steve couldn't help touching him a little bit, giving his cock a few slow strokes before Bucky batted his hand away.

"Wanna come with you inside me," he murmured and, well, Steve couldn't deny him that. He was glad Bucky hadn't capped the lube; he wasn't sure he'd've had the coordination for it. He slicked up his own fingers and eased one of his own in beside Bucky's two. The hot, tight pull of Bucky's body made him moan.

"Fuck, Stevie," Bucky groaned, then removed his fingers completely to let Steve take over. Steve fucked his fingers into him as he'd seen Bucky do it, then tried curling them a little, searching for his prostate. He knew he'd found it when Bucky arched his back off the bed with a shout.

He pulled his fingers out immediately.

Bucky made a sound of protest, head snapping up to yell at him, but when he saw Steve reaching for the condom he'd grabbed with the lube, he fell back.

"Yeah, Stevie, fuck me," he breathed.

Steve's hands were trembling. The combination of Bucky's breathy words of encouragement, the excitement of his first time and the fact that it was Bucky, who he loved so much it hurt him to not say it every moment of the day nearly made him weak with lust. He was a little embarrassed when Bucky noticed, and leaned up to help him roll the condom on. He huffed a little embarrassed breath, but Bucky just kissed him, long and slow and deep.

"Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you," he drawled, and Steve melted. He let Bucky push him onto his back and straddle him.

"Are you ready?" he whispered again and Steve could only nod as he sank down onto his cock. After an initial resistance, his head slid into Bucky, who leaned forward with his hands on either side of Steve's head to bump their foreheads together. Steve's fingers dug into Bucky's thighs as he struggled to lay still and let Bucky's body open up for him.

He slid slowly onto Steve's cock until his ass rested flush on Steve's thighs, then started moving, rolling his hips down ever so slightly. 

"God, Stevie you feel so good," he muttered, picking up his pace. Steve couldn't seem to control himself with Bucky, and he didn't want to come until he'd brought Bucky off, so he flipped them over, pressing Bucky back and into the mattress so he could control the pace.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Bucky growled, holding on tight to Steve's shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss so hard their teeth knocked together. Steve angled down to hit Bucky's prostate, and brushed it every other thrust, slowing down when he felt his release creeping up on him. He could sense when Bucky was close; he tipped his head back and screwed his eyes shut tight, reaching down between them to get a hand on his dick. Steve propped himself up on his forearms to allow him room to stroke himself, and thrust harder, burying himself as deep as he could in him.

Bucky came with a stuttered cry, spurting white streams onto his own fist and chest. Bucky's body clenched around him, and Steve let himself fall back down to press them together, smearing come everywhere and not caring as he bit Bucky hard on the shoulder. Bucky's cry of surprise was drowned by Steve's groan as he came.

Steve lay on top of Bucky like a blanket for a few moments as awareness returned to him. He realized he was probably crushing him a little bit with his not-inconsiderable weight, so he propped himself up on his elbows. Bucky's eyes were still closed, but he had a lazy smile on his face.

"I came so hard I think I passed out for a second," Bucky murmured dreamily. Steve huffed a laugh and kissed his closed eyelids, then his mouth.

"Me too."

"Ugh, god," Bucky said, finally opening his eyes and grimacing at the mess they'd made between them. Steve laughed, giddy again. Funny how Bucky did that to him.

"Shower," he suggested.

"Definitely. Then maybe we can actually get some pizza?" Bucky said hopefully as Steve gently eased out of him and helped him up.

"Anything you want," he promised, and meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect that to come out of my fingers, but once I started I couldn't stop.  
> As much as I love writing them as angsty idiots, I adore writing them as fools in love.


	10. Premiere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve realized he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could tell himself and everyone else until the cows came home that he trusted Bucky with his heart, but it was still hard to get past the feeling of inequality. It wasn't even that Bucky was wanted by a million people across the world; it was that he was Bucky. Funny, kind, generous and gorgeous Bucky.

Bucky was doing the stateside portion of his media tour with Peggy, and was flying all over the place. He spent a week in New York and managed to get Steve to meet him there for the weekend. Steve didn't have any family left, but they went by his old building and visited his favorite haunts.

They met up with Bucky's sister Becca at a coffeeshop a block from campus, and Steve was delighted to learn she was studying art at NYU. She was a carbon copy of Bucky, not in looks but in demeanor. She was distrustful and crass for the first five minutes of their conversation, but Steve completely ignored her very obvious posturing and she decided he was okay.

Bucky had been shooting her horrified looks at her rude behavior until she and Steve started talking about art, when his looks grew suspicious. Becca noticed.

"Relax Bucky, I'm not going to steal your boyfriend. Even though I totally could, just to be clear," she amended.

"Please, this from the 24-year-old virgin," Bucky replied with an easy smile.

Steve was about to be upset on her behalf, but she shot back, "Well, first of all, how dare you. You'll offend Steve's delicate sensibilities you fucker."

It went back and forth between them, and Steve had never been sorry he'd been an only child until then. When he came back from paying their bill, he caught the tail end of a quiet conversation between the siblings.

"I'm happy for you, Bucky. He's great," Becca was saying. 

"Yeah, he'll do," Bucky replied, and when he glanced over his shoulder to track Steve, he had a small, secret smile on his face.

**

Steve's first film premiered in the early summer. He had time to buy himself a nice suit (blue, to match Bucky's eyes) and got some amiable shit from Peggy about going as her date. He'd assumed he and Bucky would go together, but neither of them had said anything out loud yet.

"C'mon Steve, we had such a good time last time. You made me look good," Peggy cajoled. She was sitting at his kitchen table with Sam having a beer before going out with him, Steve and Bucky. 

"I think it was you who made me look good." 

"I'll go with you," Sam offered mildly. 

Bucky was standing across the kitchen from Steve, mirroring his position leaned back against the counter. He was uncharacteristically quiet through the exchange, and Steve watched him avoid his eyes and pick at the label of his beer bottle. Sam and Peggy caught a separate cab to the bar, and Steve took the opportunity to take Bucky's hand.

"Hey, what's up?"

Bucky smiled. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," Steve called. "We promised. We gotta always talk to each other." Steve thought a lot about the fear and insecurity that nearly kept them apart at the start of their relationship, afraid it would crop up again, though he assumed it would be him being stubborn, not Bucky.

Bucky sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his free hand.

"If you don't want to come with me to the premiere, I'd understand."

This threw Steve for a loop. "Why would I not want to go with you?"

"It's. You said it yourself, the cameras, the people, that whole thing makes you uncomfortable. You get enough of it on a daily basis because of me, I didn't think you'd want to voluntarily throw yourself to the sharks like that."

Steve pressed his lips together to bite back a smile. "Do you not want me to come?"

"No! No, of course I want you with me. Always," he said, giving Steve's hand a squeeze. Steve squeezed back.

"Then I'm coming. This is part of your life, and mine now too," he shrugged. "Though for the record, you never asked me."

Bucky scoffed, but Steve cut him off before he could retort.

"So in future, just FYI, yes to all requests." 

"Careful throwing around blank checks like that. Your ass might not be able to cash it," Bucky growled, leaning in.

"I think it's your ass that's going to be doing the cashing," Steve murmured against his ear. It was ridiculous nonsense, but from where Steve was sliding his hand up Bucky's thigh to palm his hardening cock, it was nonsense that worked.

**

Steve couldn't decide if he was more or less nervous for this event than for the last red carpet he went to. He had a real reason to be there this time, and he simultaneously hoped he would and wouldn't be recognized. 

Bucky rapped quickly at the door 20 minutes before he was due. Steve had been dressed and ready an hour early so he'd have time to second guess everything at least a million times, and he opened the door to find Bucky breathing a little heavy, as if he'd run up to the door. He was in a black suit with a white shirt and skinny black tie.

"Fuck, you look good," Bucky gushed, eyes roaming Steve's frame.

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

"I'll take something else from your mouth, too," he murmured, leaning in to kiss him once before stepping back with a rueful smile. "You ready?"

Steve took a deep breath. "I might need you to slap me across the face. You know, like they do?" He waved his hand vaguely around his face.

"I'm not going to slap you," Bucky said levelly.

"Maybe just a good hard shake?" Steve suggested, miming holding onto someone's shoulders and shaking hard. Bucky rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth had turned up. He grabbed Steve's shoulders and shook him.

"Get it together, man," he said in an old-timey voice and Steve couldn't help laughing. "Ok, are you good?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

They sat together in the back of a rented town car and Bucky chatted lightly about nothing in particular, so Steve knew his nervousness was showing. He was grateful to him for taking his mind off the nerves, but they all came rushing back with a vengeance when they pulled up at the curb. There were people with cameras milling everywhere in front of the theater, and a line of cars spewing glamoured-up stars, all coming to see what he and Bucky had been working on for the better part of a year.

Their car inched slowly toward the entrance, where the carpet was laid out and fenced in by gold and velvet ropes, cordoning off the reporters and fans whose screams for attention blended into a dull cacophony. 

"You'll do fine," Bucky said with confidence, kissing him before leading the way out of the car. Steve realized suddenly he had no idea what Bucky wanted to say to people about their relationship. He knew Bucky had never hidden his past relationships with men, but he'd never been under such intense public scrutiny before either; his popularity and fame was still relatively recent. Not to mention that they hadn't talked about what they really were to each other. Steve knew with a clarity that left him lightheaded just what Bucky was to him, but it was still new, and the conversation hadn't come up yet. So what was Steve supposed to say when a reporter asked, as they inevitably would? 

Steve was immensely relieved and honestly, not surprised at all when Bucky handled it perfectly. He took Steve's hand, threaded their fingers together to ground him and pulled him along, guiding him. Past the initial lineup of public onlookers, the walkway into the theater was reserved for approved reporters. There were walls set up, wallpapered with sponsors' logos, to section off the area and funnel the guests through a parade of flashing cameras. The very first person who flagged Bucky down had a microphone with E! on it. The woman wielding it was a pretty brunette, dressed to the nines like everyone else in attendance.

"This is Steve Rogers, he did the costumes for the film," Bucky said when asked who his date was. It was vague enough that it made the woman ask, "Are you two dating?"

Bucky chuckled and glanced over to Steve, who was smiling obligingly, torn between feeling proud and uncomfortable. "Yes, we are."

This launched an unfortunate and overly detailed discussion about Bucky's sexuality, to which Steve took exception.

"He's also in this really great film," Steve interrupted when Bucky was trying to politely and vaguely answer a question about if his past relationships with women were all faked.

Bucky squeezed his hand in what Steve hoped was gratitude and laughed a little stiffly with the woman. Steve managed to muster a tight smile, and the woman ushered them along, sensing that their patience had run out and wanting to grab some other stars who had arrived.

"Why didn't you just tell her to fuck off?" Steve growled as they meandered down the line. He'd always had a low tolerance for that type of bullshit. Bucky shot him a level look.

"Easy. There was a camera right there. You know I don't want to give people a reason to bash me. They already come up with enough negative shit, I don't need to give them anything true."

Steve grumbled about personal boundaries as they moved along to pose in front of a batch of cameras. Bucky held him close, with his arm around his waist, and Steve followed suit. 

It was different than the SAGs; Bucky was the main attraction here, and Steve was in turns ignored completely and made the center of the inquisition. His favorite part of the red carpet affair was still meeting the fans, and he took as many phones as he could to get close up pictures of Bucky as he signed their posters. Bucky hammed it up for them, and Steve could tell this was his favorite part too, giving back some of the love he received. 

Steve gathered up about six iphones and made Bucky stand in front of the gate where the gaggle of girls were crowded. He looped his arms around as many of them as he could as Steve snapped a bunch of pictures, then handed the iphones back. There were facilitators who were working the event that had been politely prodding them to move along for a good five minutes before Bucky finally complied, with apologies to those who he hadn't gotten to. He immediately linked his fingers with Steve's again as they walked toward the theater.

Steve spotted Natalia, glittering in a gold dress with an open back that hugged her curves. She was there with...Clint, of all people. Steve greeted his friend with confusion written plainly on his face as Bucky kissed Natalia's cheek. Clint just gave him a wide-eyed grin, looking like the cat that got the canary and couldn't quite believe it. Steve leaned in, mildly surprised, when Natalia presented her cheek for his kiss as well. 

"Don't be jealous, Steve. I'd have called you for a dress, but they've been sending me boxes of them for weeks," Natalia apologized, without really apologizing at all.

"Again, not a couturier."

"And thank god," she replied before swanning away, Clint trailing at her left elbow.

Steve sat with the main cast for the showing. It was the first time any of them had seen any of the footage, and Peggy leaned across Bucky to grab Steve's arm during the scene where she wore the red dress. Bucky tilted his head to whisper how great the costumes looked, but beyond an initial inspection, Steve hardly paid attention to them. Bucky's performance was absolutely captivating. Seeing him on screen now, after knowing him, made him appreciate what he did all the more.

When the credits rolled, the cast stood up on the dais under the screen to a standing ovation. 

Bucky didn't want to go to any after parties, preferring to take Steve home and get him out of that suit, but he somehow managed to let them get dragged along to the VIP room at a club. There were even brighter stars mingling about, and Steve found himself in the midst of an actual conversation with Nicki Minaj about the crossover between the film, theater and music industry. 

Bucky had been mingling at the other end of the room for a while, but when he returned, he made to steal Steve away.

"Sorry, Minaj," he said as he wrapped his arms around Steve's waist from behind and rested his chin on Steve's shoulder, "I'm surprised he hasn't turned into a pumpkin already."

It was 2 A.M. and Steve was in that strange place between being exhausted and being so exhausted he felt wired. "You ready to go?" Bucky murmured in his ear, even as he drew him toward the exit. Steve hummed his assent, and they collapsed in a cab together.

"Just come back to my place," Bucky said, bumping his forehead against Steve's temple. "Just to sleep. It's closer than yours," he amended when Steve's sleepy brain didn't reply right away. He'd been to Bucky's place a few times, an actual 3 bedroom house with big windows, high ceilings and a yard, and he agreed happily. He could borrow some of Bucky's clothes; they'd be a little tight, but the effect it had on Bucky was so worth it.

"How did I do?" Steve asked, stifling a yawn as he followed Bucky inside, sliding out of his jacket and working at his tie. Bucky left a trail of clothes in his wake as he made his way to the bedroom. Steve picked them up and tossed them in a haphazard pile on the couch, but at least they were off the floor.

"Amazing, as usual," Bucky replied, in only his boxers, brushing his teeth at the sink without bothering to shut the en-suite bathroom door. "How did I do?" he asked around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

"Buck, you were stellar. That's why I love you." Steve moved over to the window, still in his undershirt and pants, to examine the dark space of trees between the house and the city lights. It was nice up here on the hill; Steve's apartment was crammed right in the middle of everything. While there was something to be said for that type of life, Steve could get used to having some space around him.

He realized the water was off so he turned to see Bucky standing in the bathroom doorway looking at him, his expression carefully neutral. It hit Steve then what he'd just said, the casual way it had rolled off his tongue. His eyes widened, but he wasn't about to take it back. That wasn't the way he'd expected to tell Bucky he loved him for the first time, but there it was. It was the greatest truth Steve had ever known, and now that it had been spoken, he felt it all the more.

"Say it again," Bucky whispered reverently, as if afraid anything louder might spook the words away, wafting like smoke out the cracked window.

"I love you," Steve replied instantly. 

"Again," Bucky demanded, crossing the room to him.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Steve murmured before Bucky reached him and pressed a bruising kiss to his lips.

He kissed him hard, sliding his tongue along Steve's slowly, hands doing nothing but cupping his jaw to hold them together. Steve clutched him to his chest, desperate to show Bucky just how much he loved him, cherished him, how he always would, for the rest of his life.

Steve trailed his hands down Bucky's naked back to dip into the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Bucky, who'd been content to let the kiss last, finally seemed to remember where he was. He encouraged Steve to lift his arms and pulled his shirt over his head. He kissed him again, lightly this time, all across his face and down his neck, all the while backing him up toward the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he sat and scooted backward to lay across it. Bucky crawled over him, trailing kisses and licking up his abdomen, flicking across his nipple before latching on just above his collarbone and sucking hard for just a moment. He licked the flat of his tongue over the mark and up to Steve's ear.

"Again," Bucky whispered hot in his ear.

"I love you, Bucky," Steve replied obediently, breathless, ghosting his fingertips down over Bucky's abdomen to tug away the last of his clothes. Bucky leaned back to fish the lube and a condom from the nightstand and laid the small bottle on Steve's chest. Steve shook his head and handed the bottle back.

"I want you to fuck me," he said, his words husky with the heady need to _show_ Bucky. Bucky dug his fingers into Steve's thighs involuntarily, cock twitching.

"Are you sure?" he gasped. Steve nodded, and watched, mesmerized as Bucky wedged his knees under Steve's hips and pressed one of his thighs out with his left hand. With his right, he stroked a slick finger over Steve's hole. He shuddered and dug his head back onto the mattress. It felt amazing as Bucky slipped one finger inside, groaning in pleasure as if he were the one on his back. 

As Bucky took him apart above him, inside him, Steve realized he'd been missing pieces. He knew now what it was to be whole, and he was never going to let it go. Afterward, Bucky tenderly and quietly cleaned him up with a warm cloth and wrapped him up in blankets and his arms.

"Oh," Bucky murmured into his neck, "I love you too." Steve hummed in acknowledgement, already peacefully drifting.

**

Bucky and Steve made quite a splash together. They were in all the tabloids and on all the gossip sites. They called it Bucky's "coming out" even though he hadn't been _in_ since he was a teenager. Steve browsed through the shots of them posing close together, and the million fan pictures circulating on Tumblr, some of which Steve had taken with fans' phones. There was a nice professional shot of them walking together at the event, when Steve was surveying the crowd, one hand lifted to some fans and Bucky looking back at him with a smile and stupid, sappy love written all over his face.

Bucky didn't take much notice of the attention, knowing in five minutes there would be another story, but Steve basked in being one half of a golden couple for as long as it lasted. He may have commented on a couple Tumblr posts to drag it out a little, and solidified his reputation among Bucky's fans as being a "literal angel."

 **

"Hey," Bucky greeted him from the wardrobe doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin and two cups of coffee.

Steve looked around the end of a rack and shook his head.

"Cafeteria coffee again? You know you don't have to butter me up anymore."

"Well, I'm a romantic."

"Yeah, Stark's bulletproof coffee is a great courting gift," Steve said, taking the offered cup and leaning back against the vanity, his legs extended and ankles crossed. Bucky widened his stance and straddled Steve's thighs.

"Oh is that what we're doing? Courting? Here I thought you were just using me for amazing sex."

"My, my, you're forward," Steve said, hooking one finger in one of Bucky's belt loops to tug him flush against his chest. "My ma woulda snatched you baldheaded."

Bucky snorted. "Was your ma an old lady from the thirties, too?"

Steve shut him up with a kiss. He tasted like coffee and Bucky, and Steve felt the familiar thrum of his closeness tingling into his fingertips.

The sound of footsteps from the hallway made Steve glance over Bucky's shoulder. Bucky took no notice, just the opportunity to kiss along Steve's jaw. Fury strode into the room suddenly, eyes downcast to a clipboard. Without stopping or even looking up, he took two steps into the room, pivoted on his heel and walked out again.

Bucky released Steve's earlobe from between his teeth and glanced over his shoulder, then back at Steve, who was staring at the doorway in horror. He groaned and dropped his forehead onto Bucky's shoulder.

"Chiffon," Bucky reminded him, patting his head. "Chiffon."

** 

The next summer, Steve moved into Bucky's actual 3-bedroom house with big windows, high ceilings and a yard. Bucky was busy as ever, but tried to stay stateside as much as he could. It was a point of contention between them. Steve was adamant that Bucky didn't limit his projects just for him.

"It's not _just for you_ , asshole!" Bucky had replied. "You think I want to leave you?"

Steve realized he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could tell himself and everyone else until the cows came home that he trusted Bucky with his heart, but it was still hard to get past the feeling of inequality. It wasn't even that Bucky was wanted by a million people across the world; it was that he was _Bucky_. Funny, kind, generous and gorgeous Bucky.

But this was it. Bucky was here with him, wanted _him_. Steve would be counting his lucky stars for the rest of his life.

One afternoon, two weeks after Steve finally got all of his boxes unpacked and incorporated into Bucky's house, he was sketching, sitting at a stool at the kitchen counter. The setting sun glowed over the hills and streamed through the tall windows, casting an oddly romantic glow over the domesticity of the kitchen. Most of this sketchbook was filled with parts of Bucky; his profile, hands, his back. Steve hadn't taken the time to draw the human form since college, but he'd found the perfect model for it. For all his high energy, Bucky loved sitting for Steve. He refused to be drawn in any clothes, however, which usually ended with them tangled up on the floor, or couch, or wherever they were when Steve got the itch to draw, so there were a lot of half-completed sketches.

Other times he would simply let the pencil go without really thinking and find Bucky staring back at him from the page. But this afternoon he was branching out and trying a landscape scene. He was pretty sure the lower right corner was the perfect place for someone to sit for a picnic. Maybe someone with dark shaggy hair and a strong back.

Arms wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and Bucky set his chin on his shoulder. He was quiet as he watched Steve sketch for a few moments, and Steve was content to continue and enjoy the contact. 

"So," Bucky began, and his tone was just off enough that it made Steve's pencil still on the page. "Remember that time you said yes to all future requests?"

"Yes," Steve replied, a smile already blooming on his face.

"Does that apply to marriage requests, too?"

"Bucky Barnes, you hopeless romantic," Steve said, delighted, but not surprised. This was always how it was going to turn out. He felt it in his bones, now. Bucky just turned his right hand palm up and opened his fist to show Steve two silver bands. 

Steve took one and slipped it on Bucky's left ring finger, and fitted the other on himself. 

"Looks pretty good, don't you think?" Steve murmured. 

"Yeah," Bucky replied, and Steve thought he sounded a little breathless. "That a yes, then?"

"Yes," Steve laughed, turning his head to receive a kiss. "Punk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and shared their thoughts on this story with me. Anything you can tell me about what you liked/didn't like/stuck out/etc. makes me a better writer! 
> 
> Find more stucky snippets or just holla at me at stuckylikeglue.tumblr.com
> 
> PS I wrote a book called Nautical Miles, an action-packed high-seas romantic adventure, available on Amazon. Get it here, and don't forget to leave an honest review!   
> http://amzn.to/1OzIZHZ


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